Need
by writerspassion18
Summary: "I fear losing you more than than I've ever feared anything in my life. If I lost you I'd shatter beyond repair." (Winner of the Wonder Woman Award for Best Kick-Ass Hermione in the Enchanted Awards Summer 2017)
1. Struggle

Hermione snapped her eyes open and saw that her bed was empty. She sat up and saw that his clothes were missing. His wand too. She quickly scrambled out of bed, not even bothering to dress but taking her thin bedsheet and wrapping it around herself. She hurried her steps as though her life depended on it and nearly tripped in the process. She didn't, and she gathered the sheet tighter around her until she stumbled out into the living room. She spotted him right at the fireplace with his hand gravitating to the Floo pot and her heart froze mid-beat.

"You take your hand away from that right now." Hermione said with a voice that scared even her. Draco had flinched, and even from behind she knew that he had taken a deep swallow.

"Hermione,-"

" _No._ "

"Hermione, please." Draco said again, turning this time as he did. The hurt was living in his face. In his neck. In his heavy breaths. In the clenching of his hands.

"I said no. Draco Malfoy you find your way to me every night. _Every night._ You kiss me like I'm the only person that cares about you. And I kiss you back because I do. You can't run from something that makes you happy."

"I'll only hurt you. You know that."

"I don't care."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't!" Hermione screamed at him. Draco hadn't been prepared for her yell. It sounded like a strangled cry and his chest tightened with it. "Merlin, why do you have to be so stubborn? Every time you leave you're hurting yourself _and_ me."

"You see?" Draco said as he took a step back towards the fireplace. "I've already hurt you."

"Only when you go."

"I'll hurt you more if I stay. _This,_ " he pointed to the Dark Mark his forearm. "This guarantees that."

" _That_ only means you need me more."

Draco tried to slip his hand into the Floo pot as fast as he could, but Hermione was quick on her feet. She had grabbed his face and made him look at her –at her face, in her determined eyes. And with said eyes she could see his scared ones.

"You need me, Draco." She told him. He tried to avert his gaze, but her hands held him steady. " _You need me._ Say it." She kissed his cheek. "Say it." His jaw. His neck with a quick caress of her tongue. "Say that you need me."

Draco closed his eyes. He wanted to savor every press of her lips. Every touch of her tongue. The heat of her skin. Yes, her skin, because somewhere along the line the witch had let her bedsheet slip to her waist. He could feel every curve of her chest as though he was wearing nothing. As though it was a mere two hours ago when he had showed up in her bedroom begging to be touched.

"I need you." Draco found himself saying and he opened his eyes. They were still for no more than a second before he kissed her with all the urgency in the world. Because yes, this was an emergency. His life was a physical and emotional rollercoaster, and the only antidote to it all resided in her lips, the teasing of her tongue, and subtle moans elicited from her throat.

Hermione broke the kiss to let her bedsheet fall completely to the floor. She took his hand and led him to the bedroom that he had run from. The bedroom that, he truly believed, had been the catalyst to his crumbling resolve.

When the door closed behind him, Draco soaked in the naked form of the woman who was responsible for weakening rest of him.

"You need me." Hermione said again.

Draco cracked.

"I need you."

Draco stripped himself of his shirt and met her across the room lips first. Hermione busied her hands ridding him of his pants and he shimmied out of them quickly. They fell back onto her bed, her legs wrapped around him, he inside her, and pouring everything he felt –his love, his hate, his frustration, his confusion –into every thrust he gave. His hope, in the end, being that her cries of pleasure would somehow hold an answer.

He felt her come undone around him once, twice…he honestly lost count. All Draco cared about was getting lost and forgetting that he wasn't supposed to be here. That he wasn't supposed to be relishing in her warmth. That he wasn't supposed to be falling in love with her…

The Dark Lord had no idea what he'd done when he had sent Draco to kill her.

* * *

 **Author's note:** A random, 6am, "I need to write this out" super-short one-shot lol. I may write more. I honestly don't know since this came out of the blue. I had The Weekend ft. Daft Punk's "I Feel It Coming" on repeat while writing this. It's the chorus that really got me going with this and echoes the feel that I wanted. Particularly about running and that "simple touch." (I LOVE this song!).

-WP :)


	2. Complicated

Draco had a habit of tracking time. Time was _very_ important to him. Too much of it spent away would draw suspicion. Too little of it away would make him go mad. Perhaps he had already gone a little crazy? What else could explain how, as Hermione had pointed out, he ended up in her bed every single night? No matter how late it was –ten p.m., midnight, crossing into the paths of the morning at two or five a.m., he found himself here. Sometimes he came in one piece. Other times he was scarred from some battle or, most likely, a bit torturing. He had repositioned Hermione's clock on her bedroom wall so that he could see it from any angle because if he misjudged a single minute it could mean the end of her life _and_ his.

In truth, Draco was a rubbish Deatheater. Having everyone you love taken away from you would make you lose all sorts of enthusiasm for your "job." His father had been killed shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts for attempting to flee with him and his mother. He had underestimated that final fight between Potter and the Dark Lord and it turned out a stalemate. Potter had been severely injured –the Dark Lord too –and both had been carted away by their respective parties to fight another day.

His mother had been imprisoned in Malfoy Manor for her treason and for lying about Potter being dead. Draco, a youth still, had somehow found favor in the Dark Lord's eyes. It wasn't enough, however, to keep him from taking out his disappointment in his parents on him. And he was _still_ being punished. The Dark Lord gave him the most insane, death-promised tasks as though it was his sincerest hopes that he not make it out alive. Although, Draco had to admit that sometimes he half-heartedly fulfilled those requests thinking that death might not be such a bad option. But then he'd think of his mother. The only reason she was alive was because of him. The cruel man that was his leader knew that every moment of her imprisonment was a living torture for him. With him gone, there'd be no need for his mother.

"Stop."

Hermione's sudden voice made him jump, but her arm around his waist settled him.

 _7:47am_

"Stop what?"

"Thinking."

Draco turned over and met her gaze. His eyes naturally looked over her face –her flushed skin, her plump lips, her wild hair, areas of bruised skin from his own doing. He stared a bit longer at what appeared to be a bite mark and he frowned as his fingers smoothed over it.

"Sorry about that."

"I'm not."

He grunted and let his hand and fall to the small space between them. "It never ceases to amaze me how calm you are at having a Deatheater in your bed."

"You're not a normal Deatheater." Hermione said simply with a shrug. Draco sighed and laid on his back.

 _7:50am_

"You don't belong there." She said after a while. "I still don't understand why you won't let me tell the Order about you."

 _7:54_

Draco sat up and pulled her up with him. He loved her best within the last five minutes of every day because he'd need his strength to face through the upcoming agonizing hours. And so he cupped her cheek, his thumb sliding over her lips. Hermione closed her eyes and waited for him to kiss her, which he did. It was timed so perfectly as it always was so that when he pulled away there was only two minutes left to spare.

Hermione watched him as he got out of bed, gathering his clothes that had been scattered between the door and alongside her bed. Her heart raced as the clock ticked on and she began to panic as she always did.

"Stay."

Draco wanted to vomit.

"You ask me to do that every day."

"And I keep hoping that you do."

Draco paused mid-dress and groaned. "Hermione, please don't do this to me."

"Don't do what?" Hermione challenged him. "Pray that you come to your senses every time I ask?" She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I…I know that you're concerned for your mother-"

"I'm concerned for you too." Draco said quickly. "This task… This task is _mine._ But it won't go away just because I'm not there to fulfill it. The Dark Lord wants you _dead_ , Hermione. He'll only send someone else and I have no doubts in my mind that he or she will accomplish it."

"I don't know." She replied casually. "Maybe they'll find me too enticing to kill like you did."

"That's not funny."

"Not even a little?"

She sounded so innocent as she said that. Draco fought hard the upturn of his lips and then caught the clock.

 _8:00am_

Draco frowned. "I have to go."

He didn't give her time so say anything and he left her bedroom, shrugging on his shirt and buttoning it hastily as he went. With a handful of Floo Powder in his hand he disappeared in green flames to the Leaky Cauldron. He was unfortunately met with a witch who was passing by the fireplaces. She gasped as he pulled her into a corner with a hand over her mouth. A quick spell left her unconscious and another erased him from her memory. It didn't matter if she was a nobody witch. Anyone who could possibly account for his whereabouts was a huge problem, and Draco couldn't take any chances.

He revived her before leaving and disappeared up the stairs before she could spot him. He entered his room and closed the door behind him with a sigh. Here went another round of hell.

"Morning, Draco."

On the inside Draco had jumped out of his skin. On the outside his reflexes were on point and he raised his wand in the direction of the familiar, _yet still intruding_ , male voice.

"You're early." Draco snarled at him. Blaise raised one brow and smiled. He was sitting on the only spare chair in the room and was preoccupied with picking at his nails.

"It's 8:07."

"And you don't get here until 8:15 or later."

Blaise chuckled and let his hands fall to his lap. "Your preoccupation with time is going to get you killed one day. Not everyone is as precise as you." He paused for a moment, taking a lengthy amount of time eyeing his friend. His bed head. Obvious love bites. "Off getting pleasured were we?"

Draco immediately went over to the dresser and took a good look at himself in the vanity mirror. With his wand in hand he began using it to put Glamour Charms on any exposed skin. Blaise was clearly amused.

"Draco, come now, there's no need to ashamed of them. By the looks of it you had one bang up of a good time."

"Forget you saw these."

"Why? What's the point-?"

Draco slammed down his free hand on the dresser and aimed his wand at the man. "You never saw these." He said sternly. "They were never here. Mention them to _no one_. Not even to yourself. Do you understand?"

Blaise stared at him with the most bewildered expression. Although there was still a wand trained on him, he took a careful step forward. "Mate," he said cautiously. "What did you do last night?"

"Nothing that concerns you. You're my best friend, Blaise, truly. And I trust you…with most things. You're one of the few people that I actually _can_ trust. But I _will_ erase your memories if I have to. Now promise me that you'll act as though these past few minutes didn't happen."

"Can you just answer me one thing?"

Draco took a deep breath. "Depends on what you ask."

"Whatever it is that you're doing…can it get you killed?"

The blond slowly lowered his wand arm. "It can, yes."

Blaise frowned. "You're an idiot."

"And you're meddlesome. Can we drop this now?"

Blaise conceded and Draco went back to modifying his skin with the proper charms. The Italian watched him with steady eyes before stowing away this moment far from his immediate memory. Instead he decided to focus on more pressing matters.

"How's the search for the mudblood?"

Draco had to fight every nerve in his body not to flinch at the term nor to lash out at him for using it. Instead he took a deep breath.

"Difficult,"

"'Difficult' has been your top vocabulary word concerning your task for the past two months." Blaise said casually. "The Dark Lord likes his tasks completed quickly."

"I'm aware. But Granger's no ordinary witch."

"That is true. It still amazes me that they've split up the way they have. I wonder what happened to all that strength in numbers mantra."

"It works best when you're not being hunted individually."

Yes, that was Voldemort's master plan after the failure that was the Battle of Hogwarts. Going after the Order as a group led to messy fights, chaos, and missed opportunities. A sharp, strategic plan was better, so he determined, and he divided up his followers. Each prominent member of the Order would be chased down and executed, thus weakening them to the point of total obliteration.

Hermione had been Draco's kill, and in truth it really had been hard to find her. It had taken three weeks to finally locate her, and when he did he had found her doing something incredibly common, but absolutely hypnotizing.

Getting undressed.

He had watched her through her bedroom window, rooted to the spot, as she discarded her clothing bit by bit. He had analyzed every movement of her fingers as she undid the buttons of her shirt. His eyes had followed to the fall of it from of her shoulders, down her arms, and onto the floor. He had watched as she shimmied out of her denims and as she walked around her room clad in only a mix-matching bra and underwear.

To this day, Draco didn't know why that had captured him so. Yes, he had been lonely. Yes, he had been scared and downright miserable. Yes, he craved attention. But still it wasn't an acceptable explanation to him as to why he had spent three days after that night watching her through that window as she dressed and undressed in the morning and night.

"How's tracking your target coming along?" Draco asked once he had finished with the last blemish. "What's this? Second or third?"

"Third," Blaise answered. "And it's coming along fine. I should find that dragon-loving Weasley soon enough."

Draco was jealous of his ease. Voldemort had given him easy targets up to this point. That Lovegood girl. That Thomas fellow. And yet _he_ had been given the one member guaranteed to be the hardest to kill. Had he succeeded who would he have had next? The youngest Weasley brother? Potter himself?

And the most important question had yet to be asked: how much longer would the Dark Lord tolerate his incompetence?

* * *

Hermione's bed felt empty without Draco in it. Ever since she became accustomed to his presence in her life, not to mention growing to care for him more each day, she never stayed in her bedroom. She'd essentially flee from it and make use of the three other rooms that her petite getaway had to offer her. A living room, kitchen, and bathroom. That was all. It was a small home in the country protected by a Fidelius Charm. That was the reason why she had been so shocked and so _terrified_ when Draco had first appeared in the house that should've been shielded from him.

Her first thought had been about Andromeda. She was her Secret Keeper. If Draco Malfoy was in her safe house then the only logical conclusion was that she was dead. Hermione hadn't had her wand on her at that moment, and she had begun thinking of all the ways that should defend herself without it.

In an odd twist of events, however, she didn't need it. Draco didn't even have his wand aimed. He had just been standing there, staring at her. The only movement he had made was an involuntary spasm that caused him to fall to the floor. Hermione could recognize the aftereffects of a Cruciatus Curse in her sleep, and without thinking she had rushed over to him and placed one of her couch cushions under his head.

Despite his past, despite even his present, Hermione had always felt a sympathy for him that none of her friends could understand. He'd been a boy, a teenager like herself when this war began and he had been inducted into a life that he was told was now his. Sure, he could've said no, but then he'd be dead. And maybe he could've run away, but how easy was it to flee from everything that you knew and loved? Decisions like that couldn't be made at the drop of a hat, and certainly not at the age of sixteen. Right then and there, as Hermione had run back into her bedroom to get her wand and various potions to combat his spasms, she had seen the terrified boy from school three years ago.

Draco would later tell her (three weeks ago in fact) that he had thought she was going to kill him then, and if she had, he wouldn't have minded. They slept together that night and every night since then. Hermione could feel herself falling for the blond every day, and it scared her despite how much she craved it. He was still a Deatheater, albeit a non-lethal one. His friends were hunting her own. They were _killing_ her own. Although she tried to dissuade Draco from wallowing in the negatives of his life, Hermione wasn't ignorant of their situation. It had a high chance of ending badly whether by his death, her death, or both. But she was happy with him during their small windows of solitude, and she knew that he was too.

One day in the future –provided that the war was won, that the appropriate parties were still alive, and that she and Draco were still involved, Hermione would have to thank Andromeda. Draco hadn't killed her, and the man's aunt had _willingly_ told him where she was. Something had to have happened that night to make her divulge Hermione's location, and Draco was quite tight-lipped on the matter.

* * *

"Hungry?" Draco drawled as he watched Theo stuff a large fork-full of food into his mouth. Both he and Blaise had gone downstairs to meet up with the third of their trio and have a bit of breakfast. Theo slowed his eating, swallowed and then shrugged.

"The food is good."

"Must be." Blaise chuckled. "Either that or you're turning into a Weasley."

Theo smiled bashfully before cutting into his pancakes. "What's the plan for all of you today?"

"Me, tracking down some leads on my target." Blaise answered. "You?"

"Same. Fleur Weasley's one hard witch to find."

"Ah, but a pretty one. A damn shame she's on the list for execution."

"Yeah, damn shame." Theo repeated. He looked up at Draco who was blankly staring in the distance with a cup of tea in his hand. "What about you, Draco? _Draco._ "

Draco turned to Theo. "What?"

"Your plan for the day?"

Draco took a deep breath and set his tea down. "Same plan I've had since given my task."

"The Dark Lord is going to kill you if you don't make some sort of progress." Theo said with concern. Draco huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What do you think he'll do to you if you don't kill that veela soon?"

Theo's face grew stern and he leaned back in his seat. "I'm aware."

"As well as I am." Draco replied.

Blaise stared between the two men having a staring standoff before he interjected with a lighthearted laugh and a smile. "Alright, alright, lay it to rest. I think it's been made clear that you both suck at murder."

Theo and Draco sneered. "Shut up, Blaise."

"Don't get mad at me for your own failures."

"We're not failures." Theo countered. "You're just a little too good at this murder thing. Why is that?"

"Why? Easy. I value my life above anyone else's." Blaise said simply, his tone taking on a darker note. He swallowed deeply and added, "I'm not ready to die."

If anything could sour the mood of the morning that was it. That was the tagline for a good set of Deatheaters actually. It was better to be on the devil's right hand than in his path, or so the saying went. And when you were selfish and cared only about yourself, you'd do anything to maintain survival. Even torturing and killing someone else. Did that make Deatheaters innocent? Not by a longshot. Cowardly? Possibly. It was a complicated web and quite easy to become stuck in it.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, obviously I couldn't help myself lol. The ideas started pouring and I have a pretty decent outline. I don't expect a particularly long story (although my assumptions usually suck in this regard). And I don't have an update schedule in place since I'm basically writing as I go, so please stick with me! :)

Hope that you like the continuation. You have yourselves to thank and an imagination that can't shut off haha.

-WP


	3. No Good Promises

A day in the life of a Deatheater was pretty standard. It was almost like a nine-to-five with the added bonus of bloodshed. Everyone had their duties and performed them with the utmost care. Sometimes you were called on to help with someone else's task. And then there were the random (and often) calls into the "big boss'" office for a performance review that usually culminated in torture. And you couldn't forget the mandatory weekly meetings where he laid out what had pleased him for the week, what hadn't, and upcoming plans.

Today was one of those days for a one-to-one meeting –not that Draco was surprised. He found himself faced with the Dark Lord every other day now the longer Hermione stayed alive. As he currently stood with his back erect, hands behind his back, head faced straight, he tried to put into practice what he'd been attempting to train his body to do.

Pain, he had realized, you could get accustomed to. After being hit with multiple rounds of torture over a steady period of time pain became irrelevant. Sure, it hurt. It would always hurt. But you learned how to compartmentalize and deal with it. You learned what to think about and what to set your concentration on while it was happening. It was the effects _before_ that Draco wanted to control.

His body had a mental state of its own and by now it had become conditioned to many things. One of them was the Dark Lord's movement. The moment he took a step in Draco's direction he felt his chest ache with anxiety. He'd felt his chest ache before in Hermione's presence whenever he was about to leave or she was sad, but that was a different kind of pain that left him with the realization that he was cared for. What he felt now was one that filled him with dread.

Whenever Voldemort raised his wand, Draco felt his body flinch and that was the _worst_ thing he could ever do. The snake relished in fear and the more he sensed it the more cruel he seemed to be. With all his might, Draco _had_ to control his bodily impulses.

"Have you found her?" Voldemort hissed. His voice sounded like a screech in Draco's ears and he resisted the urge to shut his eyes.

Draco swallowed. "No, my lord."

A wand.

His flinch.

Light.

Draco was down on the ground, screaming, and arching his back on the hard surface. But just as quickly as the curse hit, he couldn't feel it as much. No, Voldemort hadn't stopped. The blond had retreated to his recently-found "happy place" and thought of Hermione. He dug through his memory to last night's events and he zeroed in on her face. Her utter determination to make him stay. Their love-making after. The way she snuggled into him as they drifted off to sleep. Just what in Merlin's name had he done to deserve such comfort? He didn't know and he didn't care. He was just happy to have it.

"Get up." Voldemort ordered.

Draco didn't even have a clue when the curse had stopped. He rolled over onto his side and he clenched his teeth. The pain was catching up to him now, and he was hurting everywhere. Experiencing spasms too. A particularly good one made him slip as he tried to climb to his knees and Voldemort tutted at him when he fell.

"You grow weaker every time I see you." He spat. "No wonder you can't find the mudblood."

"The witch is hard to find." Draco panted as he finally rose to his wobbly feet. "But I _will_ find her."

"You'd better. In the meantime, do away with the prisoner in cell number two."

Draco nodded and left his presence. He all but ran to the dungeons. His mind was psychologically tortured this way and the Dark Lord knew it. His mother was down in the dungeons, and she was moved from cell to cell. That said, every time Voldemort sent him to "do away" with someone in one of the cells, he had no idea if it was his mother or someone else. And so he'd have a panic attack until he finally made it there, his mind racing and his heart breaking as to whether or not he had been sent to kill the woman who had loved him all his life.

When Draco finally made it to the dungeons he breathed a sigh of relief. The prisoner in the second cell wasn't his mother. It thrilled him and it saddened him _because_ it thrilled him. He casually walked along, passing by other people who were destined to die. Muggleborns, Ministry officials, known supporters of the resistance… He bit the inside of his jaw and finally halted his steps when he stood in front of his mother's cell.

She looked worse today. She worsened every time he saw her. Sullen cheeks. Ashen face. Tattered clothes. Evidence of torture. Draco honestly wondered how long his mother had left to live. Judging by the state of her he knew it wasn't long.

"Hello, mother." Draco said as he went closer to her cell. "It's me. Draco."

His mother didn't respond. He stood there for countless minutes hoping for something –even a sigh. Nothing. Draco clamped his eyes shut. He felt himself wanting to tear up, but he wasn't going to do it. There was a chance, even if his mother wasn't vocal, that she could still hear and see him. The last thing that he wanted was for her to see him fall apart.

"Stay strong." He told her. "And…if you can understand me, please forgive me for what you hear me do."

Draco walked away from her cell and back to cell number two. This prisoner, unfortunately, was bright and alert and it made his job a lot harder. At least if she was unconscious or frail he could consider this a mercy killing. However, this wasn't the case, and his guilt was at an all-time high.

Draco raised his wand. "I'm sorry."

The girl glared at him with all the malice in the world. "I hate you."

Funny. He hated himself too.

"Avada Kedavra."

* * *

Hermione became almost as obsessed with time as Draco whenever the sun set. He could come at any time between now and sunrise and it was a slow and agonizing process. Her worry for him lasted all day but it magnified at night. It was worse at night because she knew that if there was ever a time that he didn't come then something was wrong. Once created, he never broke a habit, and it would absolutely send her world out of control if he ever did.

Ten p.m. passed. So did the next hour. And the hour after that.

Hermione took to cooking to soothe her mind –anything to keep her hands busy. Her wand was on the counter should she need it, but she knew that she wouldn't. She was appropriately hidden and the only person who could disclose her location wouldn't (at least not again), and the only other person who knew couldn't reveal it until Andromeda was dead. Not that he would.

And so she baked. Hermione kneaded dough and got everything together that she would need in order to bake a pie. She didn't particularly like pie, but it was the first thing that she could think of that required the finger work. As she went so did the time. It wasn't until she had put the pie in the oven that something caught her attention. It wasn't what she was expecting, but a smile adorned her face anyway.

It was a Patronus. A dog Patronus. Specifically it was a terrier and Hermione felt tears prickle her eyes as it ran up to her side and nuzzled her leg. Once it was finished playing with her the dog opened his mouth and out came Ron's voice.

" _Still safe. I miss you. We'll be together again one day soon. Promise."_

The terrier disappeared after that and Hermione cried. She hadn't seen Ron or Harry or…well _anyone_ in four months. The moment word had gotten to them about the assassination list everyone had parted ways. It had been a difficult decision to make, albeit an important one.

She let her tears stream down her face and she hastily wiped them away with the backs of her hands. She hated to cry. It made her feel lost and hopeless and that wasn't what she needed. Strength was important in times like these and weakness would surely get her killed.

A noise roused her and Hermione snapped her eyes in its direction. She spotted faint soot stains on the floor and then she looked up again. "Draco?"

Draco had hidden behind a corner. He carefully peaked out, his wand at his side. "I thought I heard Weasley."

"You did." Hermione confirmed. "But he's not here."

Draco furrowed his brow as he fully revealed himself. "How is that possible?"

"His Patronus. I get one from him from time to time."

The blond cocked a brow in the air as he walked towards her in the kitchenette. "Is that wise? Patronuses can be spotted as they travel."

"Probably not." Hermione said with a shrug. "It would give anyone who's looking for us an area to circle although they can't find us."

"Then why did he-?"

"We all do it. Ron sends one to me, I send one to Harry, and Harry sends one to Ron. It goes in that order, always, and at random time intervals. We…we miss each other. And we're scared. It comforts us to do this."

Draco frowned. He reflected on the short message that came from the redhead and felt his lips tug down further.

"He fancies you."

Hermione looked over at Draco and regarded his expression. He wasn't angry. She knew very well what that looked like on him. It wasn't sadness. Unfortunately, she was familiar with that as well, not to mention his pain. She didn't want to label it as jealousy, because the implications of that were astronomical. It would solidify what she felt in her heart –that they meant something to each other. It would mean that he was hers and she was his and it would make their situation the most terrible thing she'd ever encountered. Terrible because they couldn't have each other the wayt they wanted.

Hermione sighed. "I know he does. In a way I'm glad that I can't see him. It would…hurt him if I didn't return his affections. The only excuse I'd have I'd be unable to tell." She smiled grimly at her excuse and he smiled back although it disappeared from his face rather quickly.

Draco sat down at the counter that divided her living room from the kitchen and fiddled with his thumbs. "Hermione, be honest with me. If we had never… If I wasn't… Would you have?"

It wasn't the most articulate way of asking, but she understood just the same.

"No. Either of my best friends would've been the 'logical' choice, but they feel like family to me."

"Hm,"

It got quiet soon after that. Draco continued to sit where he was and Hermione stood where she was. They didn't talk. Honestly they rarely ever. What was there to discuss? Hermione spent all day reading or knitting or worrying about the blond before her and her friends. Draco spent his days exercising his Deatheater duties and he'd be damned to let her hear about that side of him. There was nothing to do except fill the silence with each other's presence.

Draco felt a sharp stab at his side and he squirmed in his seat. That broke Hermione out of her trance and her face creased with concern.

"You were tortured today."

"I was."

"Lie down."

"Where?"

"Couch."

"Not the bed?"

Hermione couldn't help her smile. "You need tending to, Draco, and not in the way that you're thinking."

Draco gave his first true smile and even mustered up a laugh. "Well, it was worth a try."

Draco got up from his spot and walked over to the couch while Hermione disappeared into her bathroom. She came back out with a potion bottle in one hand and her wand in the next and sat beside him.

"You know what to do." Hermione said as she handed him the bottle. It was a sad fact that Draco was very familiar with the steps to help battle his post-Cruciatus Curse spasms. He drank a healthy sip from the bottle –enough to help with any future spasms. The wand portion of his treatment was to deal with the possible rib damage seeing as that's where his hand had gravitated to during his painful jab at the counter.

Hermione lifted his shirt and her face fell at the bruising marring his skin. She let a hand swipe across his ribs, pushed on them gently, and listened to him grunt in reaction to it.

"The torturing will only get worse the longer it takes to find me." She said as she began moving her wand around his ribcage.

"It's… _damn it._ It's not so bad."

Hermione scoffed. "Really? I'd like to see what bad really is."

"If you were killed." Draco said. He halted Hermione's wand movements with a hand on her wrist and made her look at him. " _That's_ what bad really is."

Hermione looked down at her wrist and remarked how small her hand was with his around it. She placed her other hand over his and bit her bottom lip.

"Knowing that you could die any day for your supposed incompetence is what's bad." She turned her eyes on him and then grew angry. "So I have to live through my version of bad just so that you don't? How is that fair?"

"War is never fair."

The brunette's eyes flashed with rage at those words and she wrenched herself out of his grasp. She backed away from him quickly and then raised her wand when she saw that he was about to get up.

"Move from that couch and I'll actually _break_ your ribs." She said sternly. "You're weak. You need rest."

Hermione lowered her wand and then stormed her way to the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her and she sat on the toilet seat. From there she sobbed. She cried hard and loud and it sounded like she was in mourning. Maybe she was. Grieving for a time when it was less complicated. Less fragile. Less uncertain.

Time had escaped her, but she knew that she hadn't spent very long in the bathroom before Draco opened the door. He knelt down before her and pried her hands away from her face. From there he could see her bloodshot eyes and her soaked cheeks. Hermione sniffled and her shoulders shook.

"What did I say about your ribs?" She asked him in a choking cry. Draco released one of her hands and used his to brush some of her hair away from her face.

"Do you really want to hurt me, Hermione?"

"…No."

"That's why I came after you anyway." Draco said softly as he used his thumbs to wipe away oncoming tears. "Please don't be mad at me for wanting to keep you alive."

Hermione took a deep breath, his scent wafting under her nose as she did. "Only if you promise me that you'll get out. The moment it looks like your life is on the line, Draco, _please_ get out before he kills you."

It was a fool's promise to make, Draco knew. Voldemort never showed signs of any of his actions. They were spontaneous orders. Impulsive urges to kill. But he knew how much it meant to her and so he nodded. He kissed her too. A deep one culminating in the creation of a groan deep within his throat. And if he did break his promise, he only prayed that he moved on. For him to be a ghost, to live forever knowing that he had disappointed her… Well, that would be the greatest damnation of them all.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Voldemort has one sick sense of punishment. I feel so sorry for Draco :/

 **Guest:** Thank you! I hope that you continue to like the rest :D

 **Dindore:** Couldn't reply directly, so here we go! Glad that you like it and that you "need" more. Hahaha love it :)


	4. The Definition of Friendship

" _This isn't fair." Draco smiled. His tone of voice was one that he couldn't identify. It wasn't a moan. It wasn't a gasp. It wasn't a yell. It wasn't anything. It was something that only the witch above him could elicit from his lips. It was a sound that belonged solely to her and, whatever it was, she knew just what to do to make him repeat it._

" _You were hurt last night. You're overdue for this." Hermione said as she rolled her hips into him._

 _There went that sound again._

 _She smiled and leaned close to him. Draco could wrap his arms around her then and he held her close, relishing in every skin-to-skin contact he had._

" _You're going to make me stay past eight, aren't you?" He asked as he kissed her neck._

 _Hermione closed her eyes and encouraged them to roll over. They did, and she locked her legs around his waist and pulled him in even more than humanly possible. Draco grunted and looked down at the woman who could somehow still look so innocent while naked with a man buried in her up to the hilt._

" _Yes."_

And the witch did. Draco had arrived at his room in Leaky Cauldron at 8:12, but he didn't regret a moment of what had happened that morning. Not the way she rode the _hell_ out of him. Or the sounds she made that not even a Fidelius Charm could hide.

What topped off his morning was the fact that Blaise hadn't forced himself into his room this time. He made it during the appropriate time interval and they both went down to breakfast together as usual. The only thing that was different was a missing member of their party.

"Where's Theo?"

"Dunno," Blaise replied as he buttered some toast. "Said he had some business to handle and that he couldn't make breakfast."

"Probably off killing that Weasley." Draco said, his heart feeling heavy at how Hermione would take the news.

"Guess so. And speaking of Weasleys, I'm heading out of town soon."

"Yeah? Where to?"

"Netherlands somewhere. Got to narrow it down a bit first."

Draco was surprised. "The hell? Blaise, that's not out of town. That's straight out of the country."

"It's where the redhead's chosen to go, so it seems." Blaise shrugged. "I'm leaving at the end of the week or sooner."

"Fair enough. Bring back a souvenir?"

Blaise snorted. "What are you? Five?"

A rude hand gesture was Draco's response and he took to eating his breakfast. It was a fairly standard morning. They ate and they talked. When Blaise left to handle leads for his target, Draco was left to his own devices. Today was one of those rare days when he didn't have anything else to do except the main task at hand. Since he _wasn't_ planning on killing his…witch? His… _lover?_ Since he had no intention of doing that, Draco decided to take the time to visit the woman who had been the catalyst to this wonderful yet utterly inappropriate situation that had wedged its way into his life.

He wore the proper cloak –one with a hood decent enough to cover his face. Even then he still used his wand to modify his features as much as possible. It was broad daylight after all and the less risk he took the better. Of course, going to see her at all was a risk. However, he wouldn't _dare_ go see Hermione before the sun set. He wouldn't put her life in jeopardy like that. He couldn't.

Draco made it to the designated house and knocked in the pattern that they had agreed upon. There was no guarantee that she would be alone and the last thing that needed to happen was a standoff in the middle of her living room.

It was quiet on her end for a bit. Then a shuffling of feet. Then the shift in the air of the wards guarding the door. And then the door opened.

"Andromeda," he greeted. The woman who looked very much like his mother (or how she used to at least) smiled at him and made room for him to pass.

"Draco," she shut the door and began to reapply all of her wards. "I wasn't expecting you today."

"Are you always?"

"You used to come quite a bit in the beginning." Andromeda lowered her wand and then turned to her nephew with a knowing expression. "Hermione's been treating you well I take it."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Andromeda chuckled and headed towards the kitchen, beckoning him to follow. "Nothing that your defensive nature hasn't already told me."

The young blond scowled. Aside from resembling his mother, his aunt also had the uncanny ability to detect things that he didn't say. It was remarkable as well as downright annoying.

"Are you going to answer my question?"

Draco's brows rose high on his head. "You actually expect an answer?"

Andromeda shrugged as she began to prepare the kettle for tea. "I don't have very many visitors. Humor me, yes?"

He rolled his eyes and set his elbows on the table. Andromeda set him with the harshest gaze he'd ever seen in his life and Draco promptly placed his hands on his lap. Her cheery attitude was back after that. You could marry a muggleborn all you liked, but aristocratic upbringings were hardly done away with.

"So?"

Draco let his eyes follow the direction of his hands and he felt his stomach turn to knots. Memories from earlier that morning, last night, and the past few weeks with Hermione flooded to the forefront of his mind. Eventually he sighed and placed his arms back on the table –manners be damned.

"I'm in trouble."

Andromeda's face fell. "Why? What is it?"

Draco looked up at her and he saw her face soften. Was it written over his own? Just how desperately screwed he was?

"Oh Draco… You're in love with her, aren't you?"

 _Apparently it was._

"It's impossible to fall in love so fast."

"Circumstances can change a lot." Andromeda said with a grim smile. "You needed someone. So did she. You were both there to fill the void and now look."

Draco felt himself scowling yet again. "Yes, look. I've got a dark overlord up my arse, my best friend is suspicious of me, and I'm falling for a woman that I shouldn't."

"Who says that you shouldn't?"

"War says that I shouldn't. We're… We're on opposite sides here, Andromeda. But I can't kill her –feelings for her or not. The longer she stays alive the more danger she's in. That we're _both_ in. I… I don't know what to do."

"You know," his aunt said tentatively. "If you stayed in the house with her, no one would be able to find you."

"There's still the matter of my mother."

That quieted her quickly. The kettle started to whistle and she attended to it. While she was busy, not able to see her nephew's face as he spoke, she asked her desperate question.

"How is she?"

"She's dying."

Andromeda sucked in air to keep tears from spilling. Instead she fixed the tea and presented Draco with his cup when she was finished. He took it, but he was staring out into the distance, completely lost in thought.

"I had always hoped that he would let her go." Andromeda said sadly. "She's been punished enough."

"The punishment isn't for her." Draco said. He finally looked at his aunt and frowned. "It's for me. And it bloody well works. He's…taken away everyone I care about. I can't let that happen to Hermione too."

"If I can be honest? Please consider staying with her. If my sister is…dying as you say, then You-Know-Who will have to find something else to torment you with. Don't let him. You've been through enough."

Draco said nothing. He merely sipped his tea and enjoyed the feeling of the hot beverage going down his throat. It helped not to feel numb.

* * *

It was unusual for Theo not to contact either him or Blaise at least once throughout the day. Draco took it upon himself to stop by the man's apartment. Apartment, not mansion, because he did have one. But Theo had confined himself to a small space much for the same reason that Draco stayed in hotel rooms instead of buying somewhere new to stay: paranoia. In a war the tiniest things could upset you. Draco had nearly had a coronary when Hermione knocked over a cup once. He had also witnessed Theo blow a hole into a wall after a window slammed shut. A place that allowed you to see every inch of it no matter where you stood was ideal. And so, Theo's apartment was much like Hermione's in that it only held the essential rooms.

Draco knocked on his door and waited for a response. He didn't get one, but that didn't mean he was just going to leave. He knew Theo's wards like they were his own, and so he took them down one by one. Once unsecured, a simple _Alohomora_ unlocked it and Draco slipped himself inside. No sooner had he opened the door a spell came flying at his head. He threw himself to the floor and put up a shield around him.

"Theo! It's me! It's Draco!"

"Draco?" Theo said. He had apparently been hiding behind his couch. He slowly rose up from behind it and did indeed find his friend making sure that no more spells were coming for him. "Oh man, mate, I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Draco replied as he released his shield and stood. He watched Theo as he went over to his door and closed it, quickly redoing his wards. "Exactly who were you expecting to come through that door?"

"I don't know."

Draco gave him a disbelieving look. "Really? You just always start shooting off spells when you get a visitor?"

Theo glared at him. "You broke my wards."

"Blaise and I are the _only_ people who can do that. You had to have known it was either me or him."

"If I was thinking clearly, then yes, perhaps."

Theo sighed and plopped himself down on his couch. Draco frowned and sat down on the closest armchair.

"Theo, what's going on?"

"I'm a dead man, that's what's going on."

"What? Theo, why-?"

"Did you know she has a kid?" Theo asked softly.

Draco furrowed his brow. "Who?"

"My target. Fleur. She wasn't hard to find at all. I guess she didn't think herself high enough on the list to warrant serious protection. I was ready to do it, Draco. Just like any other time I had cleared my mind, shut my emotions off, wand was aimed, but then I saw her. Her daughter, barely able to stand on her feet, attached to Fleur's leg. How could I kill her then? How could _anyone_ expect me to do that?"

Draco's thoughts immediately went to Hermione. "What did you do?"

"I hid her." Theo admitted. "Her and her daughter, I hid them both."

"That's…" Draco swallowed deeply. "That's commendable."

Theo snapped his eyes to his friend quickly before jumping to his feet. "Commendable? _Commendable?_ I'm a traitor, Draco! A traitor! And once a traitor always a traitor. When the Dark Lord finds out _I'm dead._ What's worse is that so will Fleur and her daughter. They'll die without me."

Theo had ben pacing. He hadn't seen how wide Draco's eyes had gone until after he realized he wasn't replying to his outburst.

"Stop bloody looking at me like that." He snapped.

"You like her."

"The hell I do. She's married."

"Her husband's dead."

"And she cries about him as though it just happened yesterday." Theo mumbled before finally sitting down again. "Honestly? Whether what you said was true or not, I still wouldn't have it in me to kill a mother and her daughter. Anyone who does has no heart."

Draco couldn't help but think of Blaise.

"He's different."

Draco looked over at Theo who had apparently had the same thought. With a tight smile he simply shrugged and repeated himself.

"Blaise is different and you know it. Normal selfish people have no loyalties but to themselves. He has them to _us_."

"He does." Draco nodded. "Theo, if you play this right, the Dark Lord doesn't have to know."

"He will. I was seen."

"You were what?"

"I don't know by who, but I imagine a Snatcher since a Deatheater would've ratted me out already." Theo used his wand to summon a piece of parchment from the kitchen. It flew into Draco's hand and he read it.

"You're getting blackmailed?"

"That's right. For a nice hefty sum too. My father controls the family vaults, Draco. I can't come up with this kind of money without going through him. If I can figure out who this… _prick_ is I could do him in. I'd have no problems with murder in _that_ case."

One-hundred thousand galleons was certainly a lot. Whoever this was had a lot of guts asking for it –not to mention blackmailing Theo to begin with. Draco sighed and folded the note before setting it down on the coffee table in front of him.

"I'll give it to you."

Theo sputtered. "W-what?"

"The money," Draco stated clearly. "I'll give it to you."

"Draco, no. I couldn't possibly-"

"Friends don't leave their friends to fend for themselves. You'll take it and you'll give it to whoever this is."

Theo gulped. "They'll ask for more. You know that. And the Dark Lord still wants Fleur dead. This can't end well, Draco. It won't. It'll-"

" _Theo_ ," Draco said forcefully. "I'm not telling you to think of the future. The life we live in, hell, we're lucky to see tomorrow. Just…think of the now and I'll give you what you need to keep this guy on a leash."

Theo sat there, eyes unblinking, his face morphed in a mixture of fright and gratitude. Eventually he croaked out words that almost sounded like he was holding back a sob.

"You're too good to be a Deatheater."

"So are you."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Yup, Theo's screwed, but little does he know that he's got a friend going through the _exact_ same thing. Man are they both in trouble…

Thanks for reading!

-WP


	5. Potential Deathtraps

There was more than just the emotional turmoil that came along with sleeping with a Deatheater. It was the fact that he had insider knowledge that could be used for the side of light. But Hermione, perhaps a bit selfishly, didn't want to hear any of it. She was worried enough about her friends. If she knew what steps were being taken to take them out, it would ache at her heart. She would be on the verge of panic attacks –even more than she already was when Draco was out of her sight.

It made her feel guilty. Her side of the war was being decimated and the key to overturning it was currently holding her in his arms. Today he smelled of parchment and the rich scent of ink. The smell had magnified times ten once all of his clothes were gone –as though the properties of the materials he had used earlier that day had soaked into his skin. And damn it, she wanted this. She wanted _him_ , alone and all to herself.

Unfortunately Draco had to ruin the moment, albeit with good news.

"He's really hiding them?" Hermione asked in disbelief. Draco nodded. They were sitting on her bed, his back against the headrest and on several pillows, her body nestled between his legs and laying against him. There was a good chance that he was holding her too tight, but he loved the feeling of her body on his and he used every opportunity to get her as close as possible.

"He couldn't kill them. He didn't tell me where he's hidden them, but that's probably best."

"I wish you could tell him thank you for me."

"In another life, maybe I can."

"Do you really think there could be one?" Hermione twisted her body some so that she could look Draco in the face. "Do you think there can be a life where we're not in a war?"

Draco frowned and cradled her closer to him. "Giving up the fight already?"

She snorted. "You make it sound like the war just started. It's been three years since the Battle of Hogwarts. Fights here and there until this… Separating us and knocking us off one by one. It's hard to think otherwise."

"…The Dark Lord can't win." Draco said. "Not while there are followers of his who can't do what he says."

"Like you,"

"And Theo,"

Hermione sighed and began to play with Draco's fingers. She loved his hands. She hadn't a single clue why. They were much larger than her own. They were soft too. Delicate almost. There was very little to compare what it felt like to have them roaming over her body. Like silk on skin, she felt rich in comfort.

"How long do you think Nott can keep hiding them without getting himself killed?"

Draco stared at her curiously. "Are you asking for _his_ safety or for ours?"

Hermione shrugged. "Both?"

"…That depends on a lot. The blackmailer for one. Theo's ability to stay discrete. I honestly can't say for sure."

Hermione bit the inside of her jaw. Those were Theo's circumstances. What about Draco's? Exactly what missteps would he have to take before he was taken away from her?

"Look at me, Hermione."

She did.

"We don't have to talk about this anymore. Just…tell me what you want."

That was a loaded request. There were many things that she wanted, very few of which he could give her. Instead she looked into his face and made one very urgent desire clear.

"Can you put your hands on me?"

Draco's kiss was her reply. His tongue had slipped into her mouth after one touch of his lips and Hermione welcomed it. On a nightly basis he needed her –she knew that. He needed her to forget the horrors of his life and to soak in something that was good. But she needed him too. She needed him so that she didn't feel lost and alone. She needed to feel cared for and he knew how to do that and how to do it well.

Whenever he kissed her it was always a quick press of his lips before pouring his all into her mouth and onto her skin with the caress of his hand. Her thoughts were split between his taste and touch. He cradled her on his lap, one hand holding the back of her neck to keep it steady as his kiss left an impression. His free hand had glided its way to her chest, making sure to pay special attention to each breast before travelling down to her stomach, and eventually between her thighs.

Hermione felt her voice hitch. It disappeared into a cacophony of unintelligible sounds creating a sexual language that only Draco seemed to know. He knew when to adjust his speed, to tease, and to satisfy. At the height of it all he withdrew his hand and slipped himself into her in order to finish her properly. Properly, loudly, and under the sunrise that slowly signaled it was soon time for him to go. But he didn't rush. Not this.

For the first time Draco hardly cared about the hour, and Hermione didn't say goodbye to him until well after 8 a.m.

* * *

When Draco made it back to his room at the Leaky Cauldron it was 8:35 a.m. He found Blaise inside, pacing up and down with his hands fisted in his pockets. Theo was there also, sitting on the chair with his hands cupped. Both of them set their eyes on the door immediately when they heard it open and let out sighs of relief.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Blaise rounded on him. "We almost sent the cavalry out on your arse!"

"Sorry," Draco half-heartedly apologized. "I lost track of-"

"Time? That's the one thing you never lose sight of."

Draco rolled his eyes, however right the man was. "I think I'm entitled to a slipup, Blaise."

"But that's just it. You _don't_ make slipups." Blaise paused for a moment, finally noticing blemishes that Draco had been neglectful to fix. It didn't take a genius to realize what he was looking at and the blond narrowed his eyes.

"Don't."

"Then stop doing dumb sh-"

"Can we head downstairs now or what?" Theo asked as he rose from his chair. Blaise gave one last harsh look at Draco before turning on his heel towards the door.

"I'll order for us." He said before slamming it shut after him.

Draco let out a long breath and let his head loll back. When he righted it he found Theo staring at him with an inquisitive eye.

"You found her, didn't you?"

"Theo-"

" _Didn't you?_ "

Draco bit the inside of his jaw. It wouldn't do him much good to lie, and so he didn't. He just slowly nodded and watched as Theo's expression confirmed his suspicion.

"We're both going to die, aren't we?"

Draco swallowed. "Hopefully later rather than sooner. Come on, let's get downstairs. Blaise is pissed enough as it is."

"Wait, the blemishes."

"Oh, right."

"Try using _Obscura Maxima,_ instead of the regular _Obscura._ Penetrates the skin deeper and it'll last longer."

Draco grimly smiled as he took out his wand. "Quite familiar with that charm, are you?"

Theo felt himself blush and sheepishly let his gaze fall to the floor. "A little too familiar,"

* * *

Breakfast almost went as usual with full plates of food, sarcastic quips, and threats to blow someone's favorite appendage off. They were almost finished when Goyle walked through the door and spotted them almost instantly.

"Well, holy hell." Blaise said as he spied the man. "Look who's back in England."

"And looking ten times uglier than normal." Theo teased before Goyle got close enough.

"Gents," Goyle said before sitting down.

Draco acknowledged him with a nod before saying, "You look like you had a fight with Death."

"Piss off." He grumbled. " _You_ try going after Ginny bloody Weasley."

Draco nearly choked. "Ginny Weasley? The Dark Lord sent you after _Ginny Weasley?_ "

Blaise laughed. "What a death sentence. Goyle, it was good knowing you mate."

"Oh shut up. I haven't even found her yet. I've been following leads and she's got traps all over the bloody place. I narrowly got away from some explosion just a few hours ago. If I don't find her soon, I'm dead."

"And if you find her you're dead." Blaise piled on. "Seems like you're screwed both ways."

"I'll help you find her." Draco said suddenly. All three of them looked at him, but only Theo's expression held worry.

"Mate," Theo said hesitantly. "You're already having a hard time trying to find Granger. Now you're going to take _this_ on?"

"If anyone knows where she is, then the Weasley girl is a good shot. Theo…I have to find her."

"Great." Goyle smiled as he clapped his hands together. "Can you come with me now? I have a lead somewhere else. Granted, it could still be a trap, but I'll be worse off if I don't check it out."

"Fair enough." Draco nodded. "Let me just pay."

Draco got up from his seat and headed to the counter. He wasn't surprised to find Theo at his side, money in his hand as a pretense to buy something else.

"You shouldn't go." Theo whispered. "This could turn out horrifically."

"I know." Draco frowned. "But if she dies Hermione will lose it."

"…Be careful."

"I'll try."

* * *

 **Author's note:** I think Theo's assumptions are right! Good of Draco to try to intercede. Hopefully Ginny doesn't kill him first….

Thanks so much for all the reviews, follows, and favorites so far! :). I don't

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Guest1:** "So good." Thank you! Hope that you liked this chapter too!


	6. Sacrifice

By the looks of Goyle, Draco imagined that he had walked into an explosive somehow. That gave him some indication of what to be aware of as they carefully made their way into a worn-looking building along the English Channel. The building itself posed its own problems with its structural damage. It looked as though it could be taken down by a strong wind, and so he could perfectly picture what a fight would be like if one took place in there.

"She's a fan of floor traps." Goyle was telling him. "Whether to trigger something, send you through the ground, you name it."

"Sounds like a tricky witch."

"You're telling me. She would've made a damn good Deatheater."

Draco didn't confirm or deny. Instead he slowly opened the door and immediately looked at the floor. Goyle was about to step in beside him but he was stopped by Draco's hand.

"You just told me about floor traps and you're about to just walk in here?" He hissed. "It's no wonder you almost got your arse blown up. Can't you see it?"

"See what?"

"Look at where the floor meets the walls. The shimmering,"

Goyle looked and then his eyes widened when, yes, he saw a light flickering that proved magic had touched the ground. He breathed a sigh of relief and placed his hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Thanks. I could be dead without you."

"I'm surprised you're not dead already." Draco huffed and pointed his wand at the floor. "Keep your eyes open. If Weasley's sister's here, then she'll know that we are too after this. Finite Incantatem,"

The entire floor illuminated in a blue light and a thin layer of magic shattered above it like glass. It sounded like Draco had broken several mirrors at once, and from upstairs he heard hurried footsteps.

Draco rushed in and raised his wand to the ceiling, moving it in a circular motion as he said, "Diffindo!"

The ceiling cracked, creaked, and the sound of a woman screaming came along with the fall of plaster and wood. It was hard to see, but not incredibly so as to miss a head of red hair. Luckily he managed to stop her in midair before she fell face-first into the floor.

"You should've let her crash." Goyle said as he moved a bit closer to the woman who was angrily dangling in the air.

"Don't get too close. She still might kill you."

It had been partly jest, but mostly true. This was the first time that Draco was seeing Ginny Weasley in at least a year and a half. She looked more…dangerous than the last time he'd seen her. Determined. Fierce. Angry. Very, very angry.

"Oh come on, she's dangling like a worm." Goyle said. "What's the worst she-?"

Goyle never finished his sentence as he staggered back. Wandless magic. The witch had been practicing wandless magic. It wasn't strong by any means, but enough to make him stumble. Draco ended the spell keeping in her in the air on purpose. Ginny fell to the floor among the debris and Draco instinctively put up a shield around him because, unlike Goyle, he had seen the wand that had still miraculously been in her back pocket.

The spell –no, _curse_ –that had hit him nearly knocked him on his arse. And then she hurled another. And then _another._ Curse after curse without stopping that it was even becoming difficult to keep his shield together.

Ginny suddenly screamed and hit the floor. She wasn't dead, thank Merlin, but temporarily crippled by Goyle when he hit her in the back with a spell. Not a very powerful one, because Ginny Weasley turned her fiery gaze on him.

"Expulso!"

Goyle went through the wall. Ginny sat on the ground in utter shock, because it wasn't _her_ that had said the curse. She turned back, wiping at her eyes in disbelief, and saw Draco with his wand _not_ aimed at her. He began to walk towards her. She raised her wand, but it was unnecessary seeing as he continued to head pass her and to the whole in the wall that Goyle's body had gone through.

"Thrown that far back, were you?" Draco mumbled more to himself than for Ginny's hearing. He took a moment to summon Goyle's body to him and then set him on the floor. He put his wand to his forehead whispered, "Obliviate,"

Ginny continued to watch on, too immobilized by her confusion to take advantage of the opportunity to kill him. She immediately regretted her decision when he turned back to her with his wand readied against her.

She raised her own. "Ava-"

"Labium Obfirmo," Draco said as he slowly moved his wand. "You will tell no one of what you've witnessed in this house that concerns me."

When Draco finished he lowered his wand. Ginny's mouth was agape and it took her a couple of seconds to get her bearings.

"Did you…? _Did you just put a_ _Lip-Locker Curse on me?_ "

"I did."

"Why?"

Draco scoffed. "Did you not hear me as I did the curse?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, yes, of course I heard you. That still doesn't explain _why._ "

He paused for a moment before saying, "Because I don't need anyone knowing about me and what just happened. That's why."

"A simple Memory Charm would've done the trick."

"Do you _want_ me to erase your memory?"

"No, no! I just… I just don't understand what's going on here."

"Nothing you need to worry about. I just need to keep any and all involvements about me quiet. As for you… I need you in my corner when or if the time comes for it."

If that was supposed to ease her suspicion or alleviate her confusion with him, then that had been a poor way of doing it. All it did was make Ginny question things more as she watched the Deatheater head over to his companion on the floor and grab his wrist.

Draco took one last look at her. "The traps are a good idea, however, try to keep your arse in one spot, will you? A Secret Keeper would be best."

"Had one. He's dead."

"Get a new and better one then."

And with that, Draco and Goyle disapparated.

* * *

"T- _oh!_ "

Theo smiled as Victoire ran on toddler legs and into his arms. "T-oh" was the only way that she could say his name and it cracked him up every time –a little ray of sunshine in his dark and bleak world.

"Well, hello there." Theo greeted her. "And how are you today?"

Victoire pointed to her elbow and pouted. "Boo-boo,"

"Aw, that doesn't look like fun. How'd you get that?"

"She fell when she 'eard you coming." Fleur said as she rounded a corner. Theo stared at her, as he so often did, wondering just how the hell she could look _this beautiful_ in the middle of a war. Were it not for the rickety shack she and her daughter were hiding out in, one would think that nothing was wrong.

"How are you?" She asked. Theo frowned.

"I could be better."

"Boo-boo too?" Victoire asked him. Theo was all smiles again and he shook his head. "Nothing's wrong, I promise. Now why don't you go play while your mum and I talk, yeah?"

Victoire nodded and Theo put her down. He was lost in happiness as he watched her waddle away and sighed once she was gone.

"If only it was so easy for me to believe a lie like that." Fleur said sadly. "What's wrong?"

Theo ran his hands over his face and already felt the stress of the world falling down on him. That's when he felt it. Fleur's hands. They wrapped around his torso like velvet as she hugged him. She smelled sweet and a little like vanilla. He hugged her back and wished he didn't have to leave her.

"I need to move you and Victoire." Theo said after a moment. Fleur looked up at him with concern.

"Why? What 'appened?"

"Someone knows. I'm… I'm being blackmailed, Fleur."

Fleur's eyes widened in fright as she let him go. "Blackmailed? You're being _blackmailed?_ "

"Yes," Theo nodded. "And that means whoever's doing this knows way too much. I can't risk your life. I refuse." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sack that had been transfigured to a smaller size. He put it in Fleur's hand and closed her hands over it. "There's ninety thousand galleons in here."

" _What?_ Theo,-"

"Shh, listen to me." He hushed her. "You need to get out of the country and this will help you do that. I'll take you to this man I know. I spared his life once so he owes me one. He'll help."

"No." Fleur shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere if you're planning to stay."

"But-"

"Don't argue with me! Why can't you come with us? Give me one good reason why."

"Because it'll only infuriate the Dark Lord." Theo answered her. "He's already a terrible person, but when angry? He'll hunt me down for being a traitor and then kill you and Victoire. Do you want that?"

Fleur's eyes began to water and she tried desperately not to let them fall. "Theo…"

"Do you?!"

"Mummy?"

Fleur and Theo turned to the little girl who was standing near the bedroom and holding an old teddy bear.

"Yes, sweetheart, what is it?"

"Why sad?"

Fleur couldn't answer her. She just hung her head down as tears began flowing freely. She didn't want her daughter to see. Theo pulled her into him and rubbed her back as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"If you won't do it for me or yourself," he whispered to her. "At least do it for her."

She didn't answer him, but he felt her nod against him and he breathed a sigh of relief. When they let go Fleur went off to pack what little she had and Theo entertained Victoire, promising her that everything was fine and she didn't have to worry about anything.

"You and your mum are going on a trip." He told her, and Victoire promptly asked him if he was going too. Theo had to work overtime in holding his face together. He didn't want to look sad because she'd be quick to comment on it. She may even throw a fit and not want to leave. So instead he told a half-truth. He said that he wasn't going right now, but that he would be there soon. Hope, he had decided, was better than outright denial.

When Fleur was ready, the three of them left. They disapparated to a sketchy back alley and Theo drew the outline of a large rectangle where a door eventually appeared. He ushered them in and closed the door behind him, quickly finding the man he had contacted earlier that day.

"You're late." He snapped.

"Complain later, Marcus." Theo snapped back. "Can you still do what we agreed on?"

"For ten thousand galleons I can do anything." Marcus smiled. "Not to mention I still owe you."

"Good." Theo smiled grimly. He put out his hand for the man to shake, but instead of letting go afterwards he pulled him in close and whispered, "I'll be here when you get back. I need you to erase my memory of this moment."

"Why only this? Why not everything to do with them?"

Theo swallowed thickly and slowly shook his head. "Odds are the Dark Lord already knows about them. What I don't need is him knowing about you or the lengths I went to get them to safety. I… I'd like to die with happy memories."

Marcus leaned back, a mixture of horror and sadness on his face. Regardless he nodded and Theo acknowledged him just the same before turning to Fleur.

"He's ready for you now."

Fleur sniffled and covered Victoire's ear with her hand as her other settled on her chest. "I still don't want to go."

"You _have_ to go."

Fleur was crying again. All Theo wanted to do was flee with her. Take her in his arms and just leave their horrible world behind. Instead he just held her. It was close enough. With Victoire between them he held the pair as tight as he could.

"When she asks for me," Theo said in Fleur's ear. "Tell her she's still my favorite little person, okay?"

"…Okay."

"And don't forget. You're still my favorite _adult_ person."

Fleur laughed. She nodded and then she kissed him, doing her best to remember every part of him. His lips, the way his arms felt, and how much he loved Victoire as though she was his. And then they parted. Theo was left standing alone and _feeling alone_ as Marcus disapparated with the two most influential people he'd ever had in his life.

When Marcus came back a near hour later, he did what Theo had asked. He went further to knock him out _before_ erasing his memory, that way Theo could wake somewhere that wasn't a dead giveaway to what he'd done. And although he couldn't remember just why he was slumped against an alley in London, he still felt an emptiness inside and just knew it had something with the love of his life.

With a sigh, Theo went home. When he got there however, all thoughts of wallowing in self-pity and sorrow had fled. His blood ran cold at the sight of Voldemort himself sitting on his couch with several other Deatheaters and a Snatcher who looked _far_ too eager. The blackmailer, most assuredly.

"Young Mr. Nott," Voldemort said with an edge in his voice that made Theo's skin crawl. "You have been quite disobedient."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, that one hundred thousand galleons did _not_ go to the blackmailer. In this chapter Theo is definitely the epitome of sacrifice. As for Draco, good of him to help out Ginny!

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Guest:** "Another great…" Thank you! I'm so happy that you're enjoying my stories. I really appreciate it! :)


	7. Consequences

"Draco! You're cheating! Stop that!"

"When have you ever known me to play fair?"

Hermione wriggled where she lay as Draco started prodding her sides with his hand again. She was ticklish in that very spot and it kept causing her to lose her concentration.

When you were stuck in a house with nothing to do but read, even _that_ habit could become boring. And although sex provided a healthy distraction and, yes, they could go at it for hours, sometimes you wanted to do something else with the person you cared about. So, you played games.

This one was a bit childish, but entertaining nonetheless. There were two cracks in the ceiling – both were solid lines with one about eight inches long and the other six. They would take a random object (Hermione's stress ball) and hover it above their heads. The goal was to get the ball from the middle and over their respective lines. But _Draco,_ the little cheat, kept making it difficult.

"Ha!" Draco declared as the ball crossed his line. "I win."

"No, you don't." Hermione brooded as she crossed her arms. "You can't win if you cheat. Not _really_."

"Fine. I 'not really' won then. But I still won, technicality or not."

If possible Hermione frowned even further. Draco laughed. She was like a hurt little kitten looking like that, and she was absolutely adorable. He let the ball in the air drop neatly onto the bed and set his wand aside.

"You're not mad at me, are you?"

Hermione said and did nothing except lift her chin in the air and huffed.

"If you're mad at me I'm going to have to make it up to you."

Hermione eyed him from her periphery. "Yes, I'm mad at you."

Draco smiled and slowly slipped her wand away from her and set it on the night table with his. He hovered over her and he could see how hard she was trying to keep her "mad face" on, but it was a poor effort which he still appreciated.

He went for her lips first. Soft, not urgent. Gentle, yet passionate. It was the well-paced deep kisses that she loved the most, and he knew how much she wanted to run her hands through his hair, but she didn't. Too engrossed in her role to succumb, but she would eventually.

"Still mad at me?"

"Yes," she replied with less venom. Draco went for her throat next, kissing under her jaw, along her neck, pausing to bite and lick where he knew she liked best. Her deep sigh let him know that she was losing the battle, but there was still a war to fight.

"Still mad?"

"Infuriated,"

Draco chuckled. "Well, I can't have that."

He reached for his wand and used it to split Hermione's shirt open. She didn't have to feign upset this time, but all accusatory remarks died in her throat when his lips latched onto her breasts. No, she couldn't very well stay "mad" at him now. Not even when he bit a little too hard and made her whimper. It was a good kind of pain because he was the one causing it.

"Still mad?"

"Yes," she lied. She felt him smirk onto her skin as he kissed his way down her stomach all the while making steady, but quick work of pulling down her pants and underwear until they were completely off. He was just at her navel now and he looked up at her once with a wicked smile on his face.

"You're still upset with me. Aren't you?"

Hermione stared back, her face betraying mirth although her words, under different circumstances, would have started a fight. "I hate you and I've never been angrier in all my life."

Draco licked his lips once before darting between her legs, tongue first. No woman in her right mind could be angry (fake or fake not) at a man while being pleasured in such a way. She wondered briefly, before losing focus to the licks, sucks, and teases, if Draco was this well gifted because of practice or simply because he just enjoyed _her_. Whichever the reason, she was more than thankful until he suddenly stopped.

Hermione looked down at him and quickly realized the reason why. He was gritting his teeth, his right hand cover his left arm, and his eyes were clenched shut.

"Why is he calling you?"

"I don't know." Draco frowned as he sat back on his heels. "But it's late. Too late for it to be for a good reason –as if there are any. I have to go."

"What if you don't come back?" Hermione voiced her worst fear. She even sounded scared, and it was that vulnerability that made all of her feel weak –weak in a different sense than how she'd been feeling only seconds before.

Draco reached for her arm and pulled her into him. He kissed her and she could taste herself on him. On his lips, on his tongue. When the kiss ended they just held each other. Their chests heaved with excitement, but also fear, and Hermione held him just a little tighter before he even attempted to let go.

"Promise me you'll come back."

Was it a full lie if he nodded, but didn't actually say that he would? It was honestly hard to promise something like that when disaster was sure to follow such a calling at this time of night.

Draco disentangled himself from Hermione and he stood at the edge of the bed. As he stared at her, he tried to memorize just how much of an untamed mess she looked. Hair wild and tousled, her bare chest exposed as each half of her torn shirt caged her as though it was a jacket. It provided him an excellent view of her swollen and slightly red breasts from his manhandling and her creamy skin. Not to mention her lower half which was completely bare and inviting him to stay.

"Hurry back." Hermione told him. Draco could do nothing but nod because if he spoke he would've damned Voldemort to hell and back and crawled onto the bed to resume what he'd started.

Instead Draco left. He Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron like he was accustomed to doing and then from there went to Malfoy Manor. He sighed in relief when he realized that he wasn't the only one who Voldemort had called. However, it didn't ease his worries completely. If only he had been called, then a round of torture was on its way. But because he had called everyone –and Draco _really_ meant everyone –that meant something serious had happened and they were all here to partake in some event of mass destruction.

"Draco,"

He turned and found Blaise walking up to him. His face was calm for the most part, but Draco was one of the few people who knew what features of his betrayed his stress. It was usually a tightly clasped mouth or a clenching jaw.

"You have any idea what this could be about?" He asked. Draco shook his head.

"None. I was trying to get a decent night's rest for once when he called. Where's Theo?"

"That was going to be my second question. I looked everywhere for him. He's not here."

Draco's insides were all panic. Theo was punctual. _Always._ For him not to be here already sent a red flag in his head and he wondered what went wrong. He had given him the money. Did the blackmailer suddenly ask for more? Did he get the money and decided to turn him in anyway? Considering a snitch was never trustworthy both scenarios were plausible.

"Quiet, everyone," came Voldemort's voice over the crowd. Despite how calmly he spoke, his order had shushed everyone and caused them to pay attention to their overlord whose eyes were now trained on Draco.

"We have a traitor in our midst!" Voldemort continued. Draco's panic level had already been high, but now it was off the charts. "I _do not_ tolerate traitors. Draco," he addressed.

 _Was this it? Had he somehow found out about Hermione? Was she in danger? How did he even find out?_

"Go and fetch our traitor from cell number four."

Draco nodded and left the crowded space. His mother was a traitor in Voldemort's eyes. He knew that. It was the reason why she had been imprisoned in the first place. But it couldn't be her that was supposed to be taken. For such a public show Voldemort would want someone relatively healthy and whose screams would be heard for miles. His mother didn't speak. He doubted if she _did_ scream if it would come out at more than just a whisper.

Besides, Draco's paranoia was out of control and he had a feeling, although he hoped desperately for otherwise, that he knew who was in cell number four. And so he wasn't surprised then that his suspicions were confirmed. He was more saddened and disappointed by it –not to mention confused.

"Theo," he bitterly voiced as he grew closer to his friend's cell. He looked awful. He was sitting with his back against the wall, his clothes (and all of him really) a tattered mess. It was obvious that he'd already been tortured, but with the audience waiting upstairs, this wasn't going to be the end of it.

"Hey, Draco." Theo greeted with a weak, bloodied smile. "Good of you to visit, mate. Better you than Blaise. He'd probably make some wise-arsed joke right about now."

"Theo, what happened?" Draco urgently questioned as he gripped the cell's bars. "The blackmailer has the money. Sure, he might have snitched on you anyway, but certainly not so soon. Not without asking for more money or-"

"He never got it." Theo admitted. He turned to his right to spit out a bit of blood before adding, "I didn't give him the money, Draco."

Had he heard him right? Draco shook his head as if that would have made him hear better or understand what he'd just been told. But it didn't help. He was just as confused as ever –and angry.

"What did you do with it?" He demanded. "What did you do with your _only_ saving grace?"

Theo shook his head. "I can't tell you."

Draco's eyes flashed dangerously and his lips turned into a snarl. "Theo, you just threw away your life in the form of _one hundred thousand galleons._ You damn well better tell me what you did with it."

" _No._ " He replied forcefully. Theo awkwardly got to his feet and held his side as he walked over to the bars. "You may be a hot-shot with Occlumency but _everyone_ has a breaking point. You're already on the chopping block with Granger. I won't let you take extra rounds of curses for me and what I've done."

At that Draco's anger leveled out. With the look on Theo's face it didn't take a genius to understand where the money had gone. Or _to who_ rather. The blond took a deep breath and nodded in understanding.

"Does he know where they are?"

"No. Memory Charm."

"You should've gotten rid of all of your memories then. Not just some."

"I should have, yes." Theo agreed. "But would you if our roles were reversed?"

No, he wouldn't. His times with Hermione were the best he'd ever had. His form of light in this dark world that kept him from offing himself every free chance he got. Death with the memory of her in the forefront of his mind would be the closest thing to paradise he could ever achieve.

"…Everyone's waiting up there."

Theo's face paled, but he nodded. Draco unlocked the cell door and he helped Theo out of it. He also pointed his wand at the man's chest and muttered a charm that the doomed prisoner felt over his entire body.

"What was that?" Theo asked.

Draco smiled grimly. "Something that will help."

* * *

A Deatheater execution was the worst thing any follower of Voldemort's could experience. It wasn't meant to be easy. It wasn't meant to be quick. It was meant to bring the utmost amount of suffering to an individual which was why they were public. They were performed in the face of every follower so that they knew what the consequences were if their loyalty wavered. Draco often wondered just how many Deatheaters these days wore their loyalty loud and proud solely for the purposes of survival. Were they still so hateful of muggleborns or were they just so terrified of this type of death that they would stick with their Dark Lord until they, hopefully, died of natural causes?

The question was certainly up for debate, but not right now. Right now Draco was too transfixed on watching Theo hovering in the air and having an array of curses thrown at him one after the next –the Cruciatus Curse being the only one that was used more than once. Voldemort alternated it between curses that that had terrifying effects on the human body.

Theo had seizures. He saw delusions. He had his skin burned. And those were some of the merciful dealings Voldemort had doled out on him. What was perhaps the most disturbing thing of all, was that every now and again Theo would smile. For Blaise it made him sick –although he bit back his bile with extreme effort. For Draco, it was hard to watch, but also comforting in a way, because he knew that Theo was thinking of Fleur and her daughter.

Eventually the screaming stopped. Theo was dead and his body disposed of quite carelessly with a simple flick of a wand. And that was it.

It was almost five a.m. and Draco and Blaise had been sitting around the latter's home with liquor in their hands for the past hour and a half. It was spent in silence until one of them couldn't take it anymore.

"Idiot," Blaise said as he downed his fourth shot of firewhiskey. "Bloody idiot… He had to have known he couldn't get away with this."

Draco felt like those words were meant for him. He honestly didn't know if he was speaking for himself or Theo as he responded with, "He loved her."

Blaise looked at him sideways with a suspicious glare. "You say that like you know it."

"He had to, didn't he?" Draco countered, trying his best to cover up his certainty. "You don't go risking your life for someone you don't have feelings for."

"Doesn't matter." He huffed. "I still call him a fool because he has no business falling in love with anyone. Why, when you can die tomorrow?"

"Maybe that's the reason. Because you can die tomorrow."

Blaise scoffed. "Ridiculous. Look what that so-called _love_ got him. Dead. Dead in the….most horrible way I've ever seen."

"…It could've been worse."

" _Worse?_ Did you see the same execution I did?"

"I put a Numbing Charm on him before the execution." Draco admitted. "What he was feeling was a blunted effect."

Blaise's face contorted in horror. "But…he screamed so loud."

Draco could barely contain his shiver. He raised his glass to his lips and chugged his drink, his throat thick as he swallowed each gulp. "I know. That's why I said it could've been worse."

The Italian shook his head. "Bloody _fracking_ idiot," he said again, wiping at his eyes at tears he'd be damned to shed.

Draco couldn't take this anymore. He suddenly stood and pocketed his wand. "I'm going to bed, Blaise. Probably skipping out on breakfast too. See you later?"

"Can't. I'm out of the country to find that Weasley, remember?"

"Oh. Right. Good luck with that then."

"Thanks."

Draco gave a curt nod before leaving. From outside of the Zabini home, he apparated straight to the open field where Hermione's cottage lay and went inside. As he expected, Hermione wasn't in bed. He found her dressed and on the couch wrapped up in a blanket wearing an expression that would've been seen as peaceful were it not filled with concern. A part of him still hated Theo for condemning himself to death the way that he did. However, the longer he looked on at Hermione the more he realized that he would've done the same.

With a heavy heart and a deep sigh Draco went over to her and put his arms under her. He scooped her up as delicately as he could so that he could take her to her bedroom. He laid her down gently and then stripped himself of his shoes and shirt before transfiguring his pants into proper nightwear. He then climbed into bed and pulled her sleeping form as close to him as possible.

For the first time in his life, Draco didn't give a damn about time. Voldemort and 8 a.m. could both go straight to hell.

* * *

 **Author's note:** It hurt me SO MUCH to kill Theo. But his death shall be a domino, so let's prepare for a couple more to fall, shall we?

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Guest:** as of right now, no Marcus isn't a snitch. But then again, this story just started so who knows?

 **Princess Miya:** Thank you! I'm really glad that you like the story and I'm SO SORRY about Theo. Honestly, he was dead from chapter one. So, let's see what happens concerning Draco now that his friend is gone.


	8. The Question

When Hermione woke up that morning she felt warm. Her back was comforted by what felt like…body heat? But that couldn't be. From what she could see of her clock it was almost ten a.m. The only person who would be keeping her bed warm would have left almost two hours ago. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her? Was she missing him that badly that she was imagining his comfort?

Hermione turned onto her other side and her she stared in disbelief at Draco's sleeping form. She sat up then, glancing from him to the clock and back to him again. Instead of feeling happy now she was worried. Draco _never_ broke a routine unless there was a valid reason for it. And even then the routine would only be slightly modified –not completely derailed. Something must have happened to him that he was still in her bed. So Hermione began to prod at him. She poked and felt his arms, his chest, and most importantly his ribs. She was searching for any bodily injury, but wasn't finding any. That should've added to her happiness that he was there, not worry her further.

"Hermione, as much as I love your hands all over me, could you do it later?"

The brunette was startled, but her fears were finally assuaged. At least a little.

"I see you're still cheeky as ever." She smiled at him as she ran a hand through his hair. "I'm glad you're okay."

Her hand weaving its way through his hair had the most calming effect over him. It was soothing. However, it wasn't soothing enough to quell the pain in his chest.

"I'm _far_ from doing okay." Draco finally said as he opened his eyes. "Theo's dead."

Hermione put her hand to her mouth and gasped. "He's… _dead?_ "

Draco nodded and his insides squirmed. Although he had seen it with his own eyes, having to say the assertion out loud was something else entirely. It made it real.

"What about Fleur and Victoire? Are they…?"

"They're fine." He assured. "He sacrificed himself for them. He was being blackmailed, but instead of paying him off, he gave it to Fleur instead. I assume she and her daughter are far, far away from here by now."

Hermione let a happy sigh escape her lips. But then she quickly felt ashamed because while she had something to be over the moon about, Draco was suffering –as evidenced by the distraught expression on his face.

"Draco, I'm sorry. I know how close he was to you."

Draco took a deep breath so as not to cry. He hadn't done it while he was with Blaise and he damn sure wasn't going to do it now. Instead he groaned aloud and ran his hands over his face. He was just…tired. So, so tired.

"I hope you never have to witness a death like I saw." He said through muffled hands. He brought them down afterwards and stared her in the eyes. "It was no way for someone to die. And the more I think about it, the more I realize it could easily be me. How it _will_ be me one day."

Hermione felt her chest ache at his words and she shook her head. "No, it won't. Draco-"

"Hermione," he interrupted her softly as he touched her cheek. "This is no time to be an idealist. I am a Deatheater, who cares very deeply for a wanted resistance member –a muggleborn at that. Things aren't looking very good for our future right now. Not that it ever did." He added in a grim chuckle. "But that doesn't mean I won't hold onto you for as long as possible."

Hermione closed her eyes briefly in an effort to keep the hurt off of her face. "I repeat what I said before. If I told the Order, they could help you. Hide you."

"The same people who seem to be ineffective in hiding _themselves?_ " Draco questioned brazenly.

She bit her lower lip. "I'm hidden pretty well."

"You have a Secret Keeper."

"You're mine too since Andromeda told you." Hermione pointed out. "And if, Merlin forbid, she dies without betraying my location, then it falls solely on you. If… If you never left, we'd be untraceable."

 _Untraceable…_ Draco repeated in his mind. Just him and Hermione, alone, away from the war, away from…everything. It sounded like a faraway dream.

"If something happens to her," she continued. "Will you stay?"

All she had to do was add the word "please" and it would be officially begging. But she didn't care. She meant it. She would get down on hands and knees if that's what it took. She would do anything.

"…I can't leave my mother." Draco said after a while. "However, if she… Then I'll stay."

Hermione nodded and then she frowned terribly. "It's horrible."

"You'll have to be more specific."

"Horrible that our happiness rests on the deaths of other people."

Draco hadn't thought of it like that, but his witch was quite right about the awful web they were stuck in. And what an awful web it was.

* * *

With Theo dead and Blaise out of the country, so long as the Dark Lord didn't call him, Draco honestly didn't have anything to do. There were no expectations for him to achieve, and the only pressing matter he had was next to him in bed. This, he had determined, was what it would be like if he stayed with her. Nothing and no one to bother them. Calm and quiet. Not a wand drawn or a single moment where they felt like their lives were in danger. It was a rather peaceful notion.

"Tell me," Draco said as he propped himself up on his elbow. "If everything had played out the way it was supposed to, what would you be doing right now?"

 _That's a good question_ , Hermione surmised. She certainly wouldn't have slept in so late (it was currently two in the afternoon and she had yet to eat breakfast), nor would she be in bed with Draco Malfoy of all people. She tapped her finger on her chin in deep thought and then grinned.

"I'd be working at the Ministry. Most likely I'd be doing something along the lines of magical creature rights."

Draco laughed. "Bleeding hell… You're talking about house elves, aren't you?"

"Why yes I am." She narrowed her eyes. "Got a problem with that?"

"Yes." He chuckled. "And, were the world different, so would everyone else. It's in a house elf's nature to serve. You'd be going against what they want in your efforts to 'help them.'"

"Merlin, you sound like Ron."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "What a horrible thing to say."

Hermione pursed her lips and smacked him on the arm before continuing. "What I mean is that he felt the same way. He thinks my wanting to help them is stupid and not worth pursuing."

"While I hate to agree with that red spawn, he's right."

Hermione huffed with her nose in the air and Draco gently flicked it. She was annoyed with him and it was sweet. He lowered himself back onto the bed and put his hand on her waist.

"What else? You'd work in the Ministry, but what else?"

"Um… Well, I'd be living in my own apartment or maybe a small cottage like this if I could afford it. Provided that my work didn't take my social life away too much, I suppose I'd have a boyfriend too."

Draco nodded in understanding. His fingers had begun running circles on the curve of her hip and waist as she spoke.

"And your dream boyfriend would be what? We've already established that those nitwit friends of yours are too much like family to be considered."

"Is it too much for you to figure out yourself?" Hermione asked him. "I'd want him to be like you."

"Any qualities of mine are _not_ an option." Draco dismissed and she frowned.

"Why?"

"Because this is a world where the good guys won, remember? In that world I would've gone to Azkaban just like every other Deatheater. In that world...you hated me. You knew nothing about me or what I could be. Hell, _I_ didn't even know what I could be. And I know for a fact that there or even _here_ you wouldn't opt for the brooding guy who's made one too many mistakes in his life."

Hermione was chewing the inside of her jaw as he said this and it pained her at every turn.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Draco gave a shallow nod. "Because you know it's true."

"Because it's not real." She countered. " _This_ is the world that we're in. And in this world, yes, I've chosen the brooding guy who's made too many mistakes. And I don't regret it."

Draco smiled at her and leaned forward to kiss her lips. "You are a strange woman, Miss Granger."

"Strange, yes, but yours still."

* * *

"Be honest with me, Draco. Why did you hate me during school?"

Draco stared at her with a raised brow. He smirked too, although that was for an entirely different reason. Hermione had just come out of the bedroom wearing his shirt. It had buttons, but she had chosen not to do them. And so she was parading about in simply her knickers and bra with his shirt as a covering as she headed towards the kitchen to fix something to eat.

It was just after 4 p.m.

"Are you sure it's wise to cook so close to an open flame like that?"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder and grinned a little. "I'll be fine."

"If you say so. Just don't go burning your nipples off." Draco added with a slightly mischievous tone. "Then I'd have nothing to play with."

The brunette tutted. "So crude. Are you going to answer my question?"

Draco sighed. He had been laying on his stomach on his witch's armchair. Now he decided that it was best to lay on his back so as to not witness the progression of Hermione's falling face or a slump of her shoulders.

"I hated you because I believed in every single word that I was taught about muggleborns. That they were inferior. That they didn't deserve magic. The fact that you would beat me out of every exam and secured the number one spot in academia every year was _not_ a soothing factor. The fact that it was a muggleborn to have done it was perhaps the worst thing that could've happened to me –until the war, that is."

"When did you realize that you were wrong?"

"I…" Draco trailed off. He didn't mean to hesitate, honest to Merlin he didn't. However, it was a long enough pause that he heard Hermione turn from the stove.

"When did you realize that you were wrong, Draco?"

"I don't think that I ever did." He replied in all truth. Draco dared to turn on his side to see Hermione and her anger was evident. He sat up then and took a deep breath. "Hermione-"

"Do you still believe that muggleborns are inferior?" Hermione asked with a controlled rage. "That we don't deserve magic? That _I_ don't deserve magic? That my blood is dirty?"

Draco hastily stood. "I didn't say that."

"Then what is it that you're trying to say?" She demanded through gritted teeth.

"I'm saying that I didn't have some major epiphany like you're hoping I did." He said with a rushed breath. "I'm saying…that I haven't given thought to blood purity in years. How can I when there are much more important and more agonizing things that occupy my mind rather than the thought that being near a muggleborn –being near you, will somehow taint me? It's a rather silly thing to worry yourself over when you're plagued with all the evil you've done –not to mention wondering if you're going to die tomorrow."

Hermione was still upset. Despite his little speech, Draco didn't really answer her question, did he? All he had admitted to, in essence, was that he was too _busy_ to think about blood status. Was that the same as saying outright that he didn't believe in it?

She felt uncertain where she stood and promptly turned back to her cooking. She was trying her best not to let herself tear up with disappointment. And when that had failed, she was putting her best efforts in not letting salty tears fall into the pot on the stove.

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Draco at her back. His chin was on her shoulder, his arms around her middle. She wanted to stay mad, but it was rather hard when she was addicted to his touch.

"I don't think you're inferior, Hermione." Draco whispered in her ear. "Just because I didn't wake up one morning with some sort of enlightenment, it doesn't mean that I'm going to tie you up and do unspeakable things to you. Unless of course you asked…" He added as he placed a chaste kiss on the nape of her neck.

Hermione shrugged him off despite the temptation. "Not while I'm cooking."

Draco reached forward and turned the knob on the stove to out the flame. "You're not cooking anymore."

Hermione wanted to lash out at him. She didn't have to look in a mirror to know that her face was flushed, and so she turned around in his arms to give him an earful. Instead, he gave her a tongue-full. It wasn't easy to kiss her despite how surprised she'd been. The sneaky bastard had bit her lip first granting him access and she couldn't help but reciprocate the passionate lip-lock that tasted a bit like peppermint. Hermione groaned into Draco's mouth as his hands latched onto her arse, giving it the tightest squeeze. She was losing her balance and placed her hands behind her.

"Damn it!" Hermione screeched as she broke the kiss and raised her left hand to her face. Kissing fervently near a recently operated stovetop was _not_ a wise decision. A small part of her palm just above her wrist had taken the brunt of it and it stung like mad. Draco took her hand in his and stared at her burn. A Healing Charm would've helped, but no, that's not what he did. He kissed her palm, lightly running his tongue over her injury and by Merlin's beard did it relax her.

It also didn't help that his eyes were trained on her face as his lips and tongue worked –an odd, possessive expression living in his face as he did.

"Have you ever had sex in a kitchen, Hermione?"

Her heart nearly stopped at that.

"No."

"Would you like to?"

"Yes" was her immediate answer, but she didn't say it out loud. Instead she let his shirt fall off her shoulders and onto the floor, but put a hand on his chest to stop him from advancing.

"You have to answer one more question first."

Draco licked his lips once before nodding.

Hermione wrung her hands nervously before finally asking, "If… If you weren't so fed up with this war…would you have still hesitated to kill me?"

Draco wasn't stupid enough to pause before giving his answer this time. The truth? The answer was no. Had he retained his cold nature and had been at the Dark Lord's right hand rather than the toilet he pissed in, then Hermione would've been one dead witch. But if the brunette wanted to live in a lie and truly believe that in an alternate reality her boyfriend would've been someone like him, well then he could lie too.

"Yes,"

Hermione kissed him first. Her heart stung worse than her burned hand at the moment, but she didn't care. All she knew was that Draco had roughly pulled down her underwear and her busy hands were ridding him of his own.

"How?" Draco asked huskily against her lips as his hand travelled below her navel.

Hermione sucked in a shot of air as he did and managed to breathe out, "From behind,"

She didn't want to look at him right now, but she _did_ want to feel him. And so she was leaned over the kitchen counter and felt Draco slip himself into her. His grunts and groans hit her ears hard and almost masked her own. She was battling three types of pain right now and each struggled to capture her attention. Pleasurable pain from the man at her back who also had busy fingers at her front. Physical pain from her hand that wasn't at all helped by how hard she was gripping and slapping down on the counter. And then emotional pain, because none of this should've been happening.

War was one hell of a reality changer.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I don't know why I love this chapter so much, but I really do.

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Princess Miya:** It's been like a week since the last chapter and my heart is still hurting from Theo. But yes, at least Fleur and Victoire are okay! Draco and Hermione need to stay together forever!

 **Dindore:** Omg, yes CaBW! The best Theo I've ever read and why I love him (despite the fact that I just killed him. I really do love his character).


	9. The Bigger Picture

The next day made Day 2 with Hermione.

Draco was tired. Half from shagging during the night and the other half from a lack of sleep because of said shagging. He wasn't complaining. However, he was still grumpy because it was currently 4:36 pm. and he had showered and was getting dressed in order to rejoin the hideous reality that was waiting for him outside of his witch's cottage.

"He's going to put you on the spot again, isn't he?" Hermione asked him as she watched him dress. "He's going to ask you about my whereabouts."

Draco didn't look at her, but he nodded just the same.

"What will you tell him?"

"Exactly what I have been. That you're hard to find."

"Draco," she pleaded, holding her pillow close to her chest. "It's been _two_ _months._ Almost three. How long is You-Know-Who going to tolerate you?"

 _That's an excellent question._

"I don't know."

 _4:42 pm_

"That's an awful answer."

"It's the only one I can give. I'm sorry."

Hermione laid back down on her bed. She had never had a panic attack before, but every time he left she felt on the verge of one. It was a wonder why she'd yet to have a heart attack.

"Hermione,"

"What?"

"I'm dressed."

She turned her head and yes, he was fully clothed with his wand jetting out of a secure pocket. She swallowed and took a deep breath.

"Please come back."

Despite never knowing the outcome of his future whenever he left her, his next words slipped from his lips anyway.

"I'll always come back."

* * *

Every Sunday evening at 5pm there was a general assembly at Malfoy Manor. Voldemort always sat at the head, Draco's wicked aunt to his right and her husband to his left. In a sick sort of way it was like the Lestranges were the parents who were _so very proud_ of their son, all grown up and destroying the world so beautifully. It made Draco want to wretch.

This time around Draco felt very much alone. Neither of his close friends were here and so this pit of people turned his stomach even more than usual. He sat down in his usual spot, the chair to his right where Blaise would normally sit was empty, and the chair to his left was now occupied by Goyle. Draco was tempted to curse his arse out of it.

"You alright?" Goyle whispered to him.

Draco stared at him from his periphery but didn't turn his head. Instead he lazily cracked his knuckles as he analyzed the rest of the horrible horde. Flint, a few years older than him, sat looking as grotesque as ever with the most hideous set of teeth he'd ever laid eyes on. Pucey, also older, looked indifferent as he shined his nails on his shirt. Nott Sr. seemed far too comfortable sitting here knowing that his son was dead. Absolutely shameful. There was also Greengrass, a proud man at the moment seeing as both of his daughters were married to rich pureblood men and would give birth to grandchildren within months of each other. Boys, Draco was sure he'd hope, so that they could be trained up as mini Deatheaters to rule over Hogwarts once they turned eleven.

Merlin forbid if the war lasted that long.

"How come _you're_ alright?" Draco whispered back. "You don't have a very good report to give on the redhead today."

Goyle swallowed and pulled at his collar. "I know. But I figure if the Dark Lord can put up with you all this time, maybe he can make an exception for me too?"

Draco kept his snort inward. Voldemort put up with him because he derived an evil satisfaction at seeing him suffer. Goyle, on the other hand, served no purpose. The blond wouldn't even be surprised if he was killed today.

"Let's begin, shall we?" Voldemort addressed the group. "Avery, how's your hunt going?"

"Well, my lord." He replied smugly. "I've uncovered a lead in finding Finnegan. After the meeting I shall be following it and by the end of the night he'll be dead."

"Excellent. And you, Rowle?"

"Already dead," he smiled. "The Patil girl was hardly a match."

"Wonderful." Voldemort praised before turning to Goyle. The latter was paler than a sheet of paper which was already a bad sign. "Goyle?

"I, um…"

 _Don't stammer, you idiot!_ Draco thought in his head. If there was one thing that Voldemort fed off of was the misery of others. He'd yet to be crushed (at least externally), but Goyle would be pummeled into nothing at this rate.

"Should I take your hesitance as a negative report?" Voldemort asked with flat smile. Goyle cleared his throat.

"The blood traitor's tricky, my lord." He began. "She sets traps wherever she goes. So long as I don't get killed by one of them, I should have her soon."

"You said as much last week."

Goyle sank in his seat a little.

"You said so the week before that."

He sank back further.

"I do not take incompetence in a fool lightly." Voldemort said as he raised his wand. Goyle was letting out a scream before the Cruciatus Curse had even been uttered. Draco eased his chair back slightly as he watched him contort viciously where he sat. The curse didn't last long, but Goyle's unconscious form sure did spasm a lot.

"As I said, I do not take incompetence from a fool," their leader said as he turned his eyes to Draco. "You, however, are no fool. Have you found the mudblood yet?"

Draco sat with his back erect and his hands cupped on the table as he answered with a monotone, "No, my lord. Not as of yet."

"I figured as much."

Draco did his best not to flinch as he watched him finger his wand with tender, loving care. Instead of using it on him, however, Voldemort used it as a pointer and gestured to Rabastan without taking his eyes off of Draco.

"That is why Rabastan will be taking over from here."

Draco could _not_ for the life of him keep his face stoic for that. His bafflement was evident.

"I'm sorry?"

"I need the mudblood dead." Voldemort said plainly. "Since you have been insufficient, Rabastan will take care of it."

Draco looked over at Rabastan who was grinning madly with rotting, yellow teeth. He wanted to gag. He could picture it now. Rabastan, somehow finding Hermione, but not killing her. No, he wouldn't do it so quickly. He'd want to make her suffer. He'd probably torture her first. Maybe even force himself on her. It wouldn't be until she was broken and ready to crack that he'd finally give in and kill her. Considering the woman that Hermione was, she wouldn't break easily, which meant that her torment by him would last for ages…

"My lord," Draco said, putting forth his best effort to hide his urgency. "With all due respect, I've worked far too hard and for far too long just to have my task handed over to someone else. I'll find the... _mudblood,_ " he choked out unwillingly. "I just need time. I just-"

"You've had enough time." Voldemort silenced him curtly. Draco snapped his mouth shut. "However," he continued after a moment's pause. "I agree with one thing that you've said: _You've worked for far_ _too_ _long._ Not to mention you've brought up a coincidental point. For that reason you will work with Rabastan and catch him up on everything you've been doing so far. After that, you will have a new task."

Draco nodded. He kept silent on the matter, but his mind was racing. Catch Rabastan up? Catch him up on _what?_ He had nothing. He'd been _doing_ nothing. Nothing but having regular sex and enjoying the splendid company of a woman he'd once hated. The only Deatheater-worthy thing Draco had done was find Andromeda.

And then his heart stopped.

 _Andromeda._

She was on death's door now and she didn't even know it.

* * *

"Alright, let's get this over with." Rabastan barked out to Draco once the meeting once over. Draco really wished that he hadn't. Most of everyone hadn't even moved from the table yet although they were out of their seats. Luckily the Dark Lord wasn't one of them as he had dismissed himself first.

It was the only reason he was able to get away with his disgruntled attitude as he replied, "Leaky Cauldron. Tomorrow. We can discuss it then."

Draco got up from his seat and made his way for the Floo when he was gripped roughly by the shoulder. He turned (was pulled, most accurately) around just to face Rabastan and he sneered.

"I said _tomorrow_ , Rabastan."

"No, now." He ordered. "I want to kill this mudblood bitch as fast as possible. So spill what you know."

Draco had a massive urge to punch him just then. He had hurled two insults at Hermione in the blink of an eye, not to mention was plotting her murder. However, he refrained. There were too many witnesses and there would be no rational reasoning for doing it where the other Deatheaters were concerned.

Draco tilted his head to one side and smiled tauntingly. "Why the rush?"

"The Dark Lord doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"And you don't like to be tortured."

Rabastan was seething at this point and he poked his finger at the blond's chest angrily as he spoke. "I'm taking over your screw up, Malfoy, and I'm not going to get my arse Crucioed just because you couldn't do the job. _Tell me what you know._ "

He wasn't going to stop. Draco knew Rabastan to be a relentless being and he wasn't going to wait until morning. What made matters worse was that anything he told him (which would _most definitely_ be a lie) would be pursued and found out to be false the moment Rabastan left the Manor. Draco would have to give him something to satiate him. Something that was true –if at least partially.

"I've been tracking Andromeda Tonks."

Rabastan furrowed his brows. "What? Why? She's not your assignment."

"Not to kill her, you dolt." Draco snapped. "Granger's been impossible to find so I figured that I'd track someone else who might know where she is."

Rabastan's face morphed into one of appreciation, however much it seemed to pain him to express it. "Ah, I see. And? What of her?"

 _Here comes the lies._

"Found her, tortured her, but she wasn't very forthcoming with information. Since then she's been hopping from one location to the next, but I've been keeping my eyes on her. She's got to slip up at some point, and when she does, then Granger will be caught."

"Forthcoming with information," Rabastan repeated with a scoff. "Of course she wasn't! That's when you make her!"

"Don't lecture me on how to torture people, Rabastan." Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm not in the mood. Look, we can go searching for her in the morning."

"No, I-"

"But since you're so keen on starting now," he interrupted. "You can scope out Aberdeen."

"Aberdeen? But that's so far!"

Draco shrugged. "Welcome to the world of hunting. You should be back by morning, and then we search elsewhere."

Draco left before Rabastan could distract him with anything else. He went to the Leaky Cauldron, but he didn't stay there. Instead he went to Bristol. When he got to Andromeda's house he banged on the front door as loudly as he could, foregoing the special knock they had agreed upon and screaming her name.

"Andromeda! Andromeda! _Andromeda!_ _Open the door!_ "

After what felt like a millennia the door finally opened and Andromeda was staring at him like he was mad as he pushed himself past her and into the house.

"Draco, are you crazy?!" She admonished him. "What if I wasn't alone?"

"I had to risk it." He swallowed as he raised his wand into the air. "Accio trunk!"

Andromeda watched in bemusement as her travelling trunk flew into the living room and onto the floor. With another flourishment of his wand her clothes began piling into it as well as essential toiletries. Now instead of being confused, she was worried.

"Draco," she addressed again. "What's going on?"

Her nephew turned around wearing the most apologetic expression she'd ever seen.

"You have to run. Go somewhere. _Anywhere_. The Dark Lord's grown tired of me. He's given the task of killing Hermione to Rabastan."

Andromeda gasped. "Rabastan? But he...he's a monster!"

"To be fair, they're all monsters." Draco said grimly. "But yes, he's among the worst. What's made this predicament even more horrible is that _I'm_ supposed to tell him all about my efforts in trying to find her." He laughed then as he shook his head. "And I haven't even got any! Not a single one! Nothing except...well, except you."

His aunt paled as she slowly nodded. "I see."

"I gave him a false lead to you." He continued. "I can keep doing it for a while, but he'll start asking questions. It wouldn't be long after that he brings his suspicions of me to the Dark Lord-"

"Draco-"

"I'm sorry to have done it this way. Rabastan was hounding me and I couldn't shake him-"

"But Draco-"

"If I hadn't told him something he could use he would've outted me right then and there. And as much as I hate to admit it our thought processes are the same-"

" _Draco,_ listen to-"

"And he would've found you anyway, or even someone else. But at least I bought you time so that you could leave. I'll give you money. I'll-"

"Draco Malfoy, will you be quiet so that I can talk to you?!" Andromeda shouted. Once again Draco felt like he was being scolded by his own mother and so he silenced himself. Were this not such a serious moment, she would've commented on how sweet and attentive he suddenly looked.

"No one knows where Hermione is aside from me and you." She told him. "If I'm killed, you'll be Hermione's only Secret Keeper."

"Yes, I know." He nodded. "Hermione and I already discussed-"

"It's brilliant." She said with what could be described as glee. "It's absolutely perfect…"

"Andromeda, what the hell are you going on about?"

"I'm talking about the best solution of keeping Hermione safe. If you're her Secret Keeper and you love her like I know you do, then no one will ever be able to find her. Rabastan or You-Know-Who may become suspicious that a Fidelius Charm is the culprit, but he won't think twice that one of his own has a hand in it. And even if they do, they won't be able to find you to confront you about it. Draco, the plan is flawless."

"You sound just like Hermione." Draco frowned, then he turned angry. "But you're leaving out the part where you're offering up yourself to die."

"It's a price I'm willing to pay."

"And who says it's a price that _I'm_ willing to pay?"

"Hermione's worth it, isn't she?"

Draco faltered. "That's… That's not fair. I would do anything for her. But to put her up against someone else's life that's-"

"You're not taking my life, Draco." Andromeda tried to reason with him. "I'm _giving_ it. I've served my part in this war, and I've been more than happy to do it."

Draco had never once begged in his life, but for the first time he was succumbing to it very easily.

"Please don't. You can't just give yourself over like this."

"War is more than about _self_ , Draco. If there's one thing I've learned by living through _two_ wars, it's that. Now, I just have one request."

Draco took a deep breath and shallowly nodded.

Andromeda sucked in some air of her own before saying, "I want you to be the one to kill me."

" _Excuse me?_ "

"You heard me. I'd rather be at the mercy of your wand than Rabastan's. Promise me that you'll do this."

Letting Andromeda get killed was one thing, but for _him_ to do it? The weight of the world had already been crushing him, but now it was destroying him. Draco numbly agreed and was soon being pulled into a tight hug. He had never known his aunt before this, but he sure wished he had known her longer.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, things just got a bit stickier I would say. I love Andromeda. Draco's going to have to be very, _very_ careful.

-WP


	10. Acts Out of Love

Hermione tended to take forever doing the simplest tasks in order to kill time. Making her bed. Cooking. Cleaning. Showering. Sleep would be the ultimate time killer, but as of late she found it difficult to sleep if Draco wasn't with her. She hated to admit it, but there was a definitely co-dependency issue going on. She felt anxious and weak without him and that, however sweet it sounded, wasn't a particularly good thing. The blond Deatheater was, in essence, her weakness just as much as her strength. She couldn't help but wonder just how this little mashup would some day backfire.

It was towards the end of her near one-hour shower that Hermione heard her name being called. Some moments later the bathroom door opened and she could see the blurred image of her lover through the foggy glass shower door.

"Are you almost finished?" Draco asked her.

"Yes,"

"Can I come in anyway?"

His voice was almost pleading. Hermione sighed and turned the shower nozzle towards the wall and slid open the door. Draco was half undressed when she did and once he had peeled away the last bit of his clothing he was sharing the shower with her and closing the door behind him.

Hermione's face immediately filled with concern once she got a good look at his.

"Something's wrong."

"Is something ever right?" Draco grimly joked.

Hermione hated to agree and instead took her neutral-scented soap in her hands. "Tell me about it while I take care of everything else."

Draco nodded and adjusted the nozzle so it was in its proper place again. Then he stepped back into it, relishing in the water that was perhaps a bit too hot for the skin.

"The hunt for you isn't my task anymore." He said before drawing close to her again. "The Dark Lord gave it to Rabastan."

The soap slipped from Hermione's fingers. "He… _He what?_ "

Draco swallowed as he bent down to retrieve the soap and give it back to her. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's… It's not your fault." Hermione assured him although her deathly pale face didn't help his feelings on the matter one bit. "What will happen now?"

"Rabastan's vile and relentless. He'll do anything he can to find you. And unfortunately I have to be the one to help him."

"Help him?"

"The Dark Lord ordered to me to. I was trying to keep you as my task, but my aid to that sick bastard was the final decision."

"Aid," Hermione choked on the word. "What aid? Draco, you have _nothing_ to show for yourself. Rabastan will realize that the longer you give him the runaround. And then he'll tell You-Know-Who. _Then you'll die._ _That's_ the end result of this."

"My death was _always_ the end result of this." Draco corrected her. The bar of soap slipped from Hermione's hand again, but he didn't retrieve it. Instead he gently pulled her into his arms and held her close. She may have been crying. It was hard to tell when the shower was still running.

"I bought us some time." He continued. "But I'm not proud of it seeing as it's not going at all like how I hoped it would have."

Hermione, who had her face buried in his shoulder, looked up at him. Red eyes. Yes, she'd been shedding tears.

"What did you do?"

"I…" Draco felt the guilt rise up in his chest and it burned like mad. "I told him about Andromeda."

He could feel Hermione stiffen. He even felt her try to pull away, but he kept his grip on her so she couldn't move. She needed to hear the rest before condemning him.

"I only did it to give Rabastan something to go off of. If not he would've seen through me right away."

"You've condemned her to death." Hermione said angrily as she struggled to get away from him, but Draco quickly shook his head.

"No, I didn't. She's condemned herself."

Hermione stopped her struggling. "What do you mean?"

"After the meeting I went to see her. I told her that she had to go and that I'd give her the money to flee. Hermione…she _chose_ to stay. She came to the brilliant conclusion as you did that I would be your only Secret Keeper if she was killed. She thinks it's better this way to keep you safe." Draco sighed and briefly closed his eyes. "I tried to convince her otherwise, I swear. However, despite being a Slytherin she's as stubborn as a Gryffindor."

Hermione chuckled despite the direness of the situation and wiped at her eyes. "Great… Andromeda's as good as dead and you've postponed your own demise by one person. Congratulations."

The bitter sarcasm in her voice tore at Draco in a million different ways. She sounded defeated and that just wasn't her. With a tired breath he turned off the water and slid open the shower door so they could get out. Completely dripping wet, he led them out of the bathroom and into her bedroom. They got into bed, under the covers and all, cuddled up in an entanglement of legs and arms.

"I don't know what I'd do without you." Hermione said after several minutes passed. Draco nearly flinched at her sorrowful tone.

"You were fine without me before."

"I didn't know I was incomplete before."

Those words hit Draco harder than he could've imagined. _He_ completed _her?_ How in the living hell could he, of all people, be what was keeping her from feeling empty? He knew why _she_ made him feel that way. She was good. She was good and wholesome, not innocent, but light enough to make him feel a little less dark. He didn't deserve her.

"You'd better be careful." Draco said with a pained voice. "I might start to think that you love me, and we both know that can't happen."

Hermione pursed her lips and buried her face in his neck. "Why not?"

"Because then we'd be screwed –front, back, sideways… The more you love the more you fear to lose." Draco sighed and forced Hermione to look at him with a gentle lift of her chin. "And I fear losing you more than I've ever feared anything in my life. Like if I lost you I'd shatter beyond repair."

Hermione felt herself break –shatter, just like he said, but in a good way. She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him feverishly as though he would disappear the moment that she stopped. And when she did, and she realized that he was still there, in her bed, staring at her as though she was the only person in his world, she felt safe enough to say her words out loud.

"I love you too, Draco."

* * *

Draco had the hardest time leaving Hermione the next day. It was always hard. Torturous even. But having told her, however indirectly, that he loved her and to hear her say that she loved him back, it had changed things. _Drastically._ She had held a place in his heart before, but now she overtook it. It was for her and only for her, and that made every action he took next that much more meaningful.

And dangerous.

Draco met up with Rabastan in the morning just like they had agreed. Having offered herself up, Andromeda had planned her own death. That said she had picked the day and the time, and the damn woman had chosen _today._ She didn't want to prolong it, nor did she want to keep him among the Deatheaters any longer than he needed to be. At that Draco could only laugh. She wanted to keep _him_ away from danger? What made him so special that she would think of him like that? He supposed it was because they were family, however estranged they had been over the years.

"You're looking particularly bitter this morning." Draco smiled at his expense. "I take it Aberdeen was a failure?"

Rabastan glared. "Wipe that smile off your face. Something tells me that you knew I wouldn't find anything up there."

"I told you she hopped from place to place." He shrugged. "Obviously she'd done a little hopping before you got there. Or wasn't there at all. Hunting down muggleborns and blood traitors isn't easy. Did you really think you would get her on the first try?"

"Just shut your gob and tell me where else she might be."

"I'll do you one better and show you. Let's get going. The more places we hit, the better our odds are at finding her."

Rabastan agreed. He wanted to opt out of breakfast to get started, but that was something that Draco _never_ did. He was already sick with emotion; there was no need for him to be sick from hunger too. And so, partly because he was truly hungry and, of course, to piss the man off, Draco ordered an elaborate meal that could've honestly fed three people. Occasionally he offered the irate man before him a bite of his pancakes, or some of his eggs, or at least a grape. Rabastan said no at every turn before Draco finally stopped asking.

When he was finished he sighed and said that they could get going. Draco had five places lined up before hitting Andromeda's. While this gave Andromeda time to enjoy the last day of her life, this also angered Rabastan each time they tried a house and it turned up empty. And this wasn't even for his true target. What would happen when he turned his attention to finding Hermione? How enraged would he be when he realized that she was unable to be found? What would happen if he did?

"This the last house?" Rabastan asked gruffly. Draco looked up at the house that he had barged into last night, desperate to make his aunt listen to reason and leave.

He swallowed. "Yeah. If she wasn't anywhere else then she's got to be here."

"Good."

Rabastan had his wand in his hand and he unlocked the front door with a simple _Alohomora_. Under normal circumstances that spell wouldn't work with how many wards Andromeda kept on the place. But not today. Today she had kept them all down to make it easy for them to enter. It grated on Draco's nerves how accessible she had made things. Especially when she was found sitting on her couch and drinking a cup of tea.

Andromeda's eyes locked onto Draco's immediately before she dropped her cup and screamed in agony. Draco snapped his head to Rabastan who had casted the Cruciatus Curse the moment he had walked into the house.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Draco shouted at him as he put a firm hand on his wand arm.

Rabastan pushed him off and growled. "What do you think? She gave us the runaround today and I'm letting her have it."

"We came here for a purpose, you idiot. You can't find out what you want to know if she's _unconscious._ "

"That's what _Rennervate_ is for." Rabastan smiled cruelly before raising his wand again. Draco's hand was on his arm again, but this time he squeezed it forcefully.

"I mean it Rabastan. Besides," Draco took out his own wand and bit back his anxiety. "She's my aunt. If anyone's going to lay a wand on her, it's me."

Rabastan suspiciously glanced between him and what he could see of Andromeda who had slipped to the floor. "Humph, well, by all means." He replied as he gestured for Draco to take the floor. "But _I_ question her. Torture her when I tell you to. You got that?"

"Absolutely," Draco answered as he faced his aunt's direction. "Get up."

Andromeda placed a hand on the arm of the couch and wobbled her way to her feet. "W-what do you want with me?" She asked in a frightened tone. Draco had to hold in his approval. She wasn't faking her pain, but her fright was all show.

"We're looking for the mudblood. Granger," Rabastan told her. "And you're going to tell us where she is."

Andromeda's eyes went wide before she directed her gaze at Draco. "But…I already told you! I don't know where she is!"

"So _you_ say. After you, Draco."

Draco raised his wand, but didn't utter a single word until his aunt had given him the subtlest of nods. With an insane amount of guilt he aimed, "Crucio,"

There was no force in his words or even behind the curse, but Andromeda still fell onto her side, twitching and writhing and yelling in agony. The curse must've lasted no more than five seconds, but, from personal experience, Draco knew that it would've felt like a lifetime.

"You might want to rethink your answer." Rabastan sneered.

Andromeda panted and turned her head in his direction. "I don't know where she is…"

"Again,"

Draco aimed and closed his eyes this time. Repeated Crucios often felt worse because it was pain upon pain. And yes, her screams were a bit louder this time.

"I don't know…" Andromeda repeated. Draco dared to look at her and his heart broke at how worn she looked so quickly. She was older –older than his mother –and he knew the consequences of the Cruciatus Curse on older people were far worse than those younger in age. It took the most toll on the heart, and he wondered if she would die by curse or by heart failure.

"We have all day." Rabastan said as he raised his wand. "However, I don't feel very much like waiting."

With a flick of his wand several deep scars ripped through Andromeda's clothes and skin. Draco rounded on him quickly, but willed himself not to immediately kill him.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

"No, just my patience."

Rabastan's wand got going again and Draco looked at his aunt to find her bleeding from every wound that Rabastan had made.

"Rabastan," Draco breathed. " _I'm_ supposed to torture her. Not you."

"Well, I've changed my mind." He replied sadistically as he twisted the angle of his wand. It did just as Draco feared it would and made Andromeda to bleed out just a little bit faster.

The blond trained his on Rabastan and growled out, "Put the bloody wand down."

"I dare you to make me." Rabastan goaded and then chuckled. "Everyone's right about you, you know. You've gone soft. Or perhaps you always have been? Apparently you _do_ need a lesson on torturing."

Andromeda was whimpering where she lay, her eyes large and bloodshot –blood trickling from her mouth and nose. Draco couldn't take it. He _wouldn't_ take it. He raised his wand and pointed it directly at her chest.

"Avada Kedavra,"

The curse hit her neatly and she stopped moving, stopped groaning, and most importantly, she stopped bleeding. Draco hated to kill, but this was perhaps the first and only time he had been happy to do it. Anything to make Rabastan stop. And then said Deatheater grabbed him by the collar and Draco pushed him off before aiming his wand at him.

"Don't."

"You killed her!" Rabastan shouted, his own wand directed at the source of his rage. "You bastard, you actually killed her! Before we could even get anything!"

"Be thankful that it wasn't you." Draco snarled at him. "Your death, unfortunately, requires careful planning."

Rabastan's mouth flopped open before he attempted to curse Draco. But Draco, anticipating this, summoned Rabastan into his open hand. With the front of the man's shirt in his grip, Draco pressed his wand to his temple.

"Oblivate,"

Draco had meant what he said about careful planning. Rabastan was too noticeable of a person to dispose of so simply - _especially_ when it had been announced in the midst of everyone that they were to be working together. His death needed to be meticulously mapped out and, one day, Draco promised to do just that. Instead, a modification of his memories would have to do.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Rabastan will get his one day! Never anger Draco. It's just not wise...

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Guest:** I'm sorry! And, as a continuation from last chapter, sorry for this one too.


	11. Reasons for Death & Murder

Perhaps for the first time ever Draco had enjoyed his time standing in Voldemort's presence. Like usual there was torture for not bringing back good news, but the blond had gotten the least of it. Due to well-erased and well-erected memories, Rabastan had been the one to kill Andromeda after a measly few minutes of torturing. Naturally, Voldemort had been enraged, saying that she could've been captured, left in a cell to rot until she was forthcoming with everything she had on the resistance -not just about "the mudblood."

Rabastan had been punished severely for his stupidity and Draco kept his joy on the inside. Despite having lost the closest person he had to a mother since his had been rendered useless, seeing that monster piss himself while being tortured was a grand treat.

"Draco,"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Dispose of cell number five." He said flippantly. "I have no use for anyone on death's door."

All of Draco's mirth flew away at that. He nodded obediently and went on his way to the dungeons. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears and feel his heart thudding madly in his chest the closer he got to the makeshift hell. He checked every cell, looking for his mother, until he finally found her in cell number five.

She looked dead.

And when Draco unlocked the cell door and went inside, she felt dead too.

She was cold and clammy and her blank stare was sending chills through him. Normally for dead prisoners a simple wave of his wand would send them to a designated area -a furnace -in order to get rid of their body quickly. But he would _not_ be doing that for his mother. He had put a Stasis Charm on Andromeda's body to keep it well-preserved until someone found her. He'd do the same for his mother and send her body to one of their abandoned summer homes. She'd be safe there until the war ended. _If_ the war ended.

"Draco?"

Draco, who had been sitting on his heels by his mother's side, fell back. He was so startled that it was a miracle he hadn't soiled himself like Rabastan. With wide eyes he stared at the woman who was supposed to be dead, who had been catatonic for _months -nearly a year even_ , who had now turned her head to him and staring with pleading eyes.

"M-mother?"

Narcissa strained herself to smile. As well she should since her facial muscles had been so little used as of late. And yet she still tried. _For him. At_ _ **him.**_ Draco was shaking. He was so caught off-guard that he didn't know what to do. He did, however, swallow deeply and forced himself to move. He approached her cautiously as though she might attack him. And yes, he had determined, that this was an attack. An emotional one that sent him haywire. He tried to enact his Occlumency skills to block the emotional assault. But how could he? How could he when he had finally reached his mother and she had weakly raised her hand to touch his cheek?

"Mother?" Draco said as he put his hand over hers. "I'm sorry."

Narcissa shook her head, slowly, but she had done it anyway. And then she smiled again and said the most words she had in such a long time.

"I love you."

Draco said it back but in such a low whisper that he only knew she had heard because she gave her biggest smile yet. And then the hand on his cheek lost all tension. Draco's face turned stern. With his lips clasped tightly, he removed her hand and laid it on her chest. Then he closed her eyes. He must've stayed in that cell with her for what felt like hours although in reality it was more like minutes. And then he finally got to his feet. He put the Stasis Charm on her and then her body vanished just like he planned to do in the beginning.

He didn't cry.

He didn't even sigh.

He just closed the cell door after himself and left as though nothing had happened at all.

* * *

Hermione had known that today was "the day." Draco had told her the details of his plan concerning Andromeda and so she had spent it in mourning. She had some spare candles around the cottage and so she set them up in a sort of vigil. She sat anxiously in the living room with a book, unable to read, and waiting for Draco to come back so that they could light them. When he finally arrived, she immediately stood up and tried to analyze his face.

Distressed?

Sad?

Angry?

It was hard. He didn't look nearly as broken as she had expected him to, but maybe that was a good thing. Or perhaps he'd break down later? Regardless, Hermione went over to her kitchen counter with her wand in hand.

"I thought we could light some candles for Andromeda." Hermione said. "It's the least we could do."

"You'll have to get more candles."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Why?"

Draco finally emitted that sigh, although it was more of a tired one than anything else. "My mother's dead."

"Oh, Draco…" She gasped as she walked towards him. "I'm sorry. First Andromeda and now your mother. Was it…? Did You-Know-Who…?"

"Well, he didn't exactly Avada her." Draco replied as he sat down on the couch and urged her to sit with him. "But after all the deprivation she finally succumbed."

Hermione studied his face. Not a single red eye. Not the tiniest hitch in his voice.

"You're taking it well."

Draco leaned his head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. "You noticed, huh?" He rubbed his hands over his face and let them fall to his sides. "Is it wrong of me to be happy that she's gone? I'm sad, yes, but not as devastated as I thought I'd be. As I _should_ be."

Hermione nodded in understanding and ran her hand through his hair soothingly. "Not every death is a bad one. From what you've told me about her, she was suffering. At least now…now she's not. It's okay to be happy about that."

"I am." Draco said after a moment's pause. "I _actually_ am." He smiled then and looked at her, and that's when she saw it. The pain.

His smile was wide and it reached his cheeks, but it highlighted his eyes and how hard he was holding back. Hermione didn't say anything. She reached out for him and pulled her into him. The moment his face was buried in her neck she felt a teardrop fall onto her skin. He wasn't a blubbering mess, nor did she expect him to be. It was more of a silent cry and she let him get it out for however long he needed.

Turned out to be a near three hours. First the crying. Then silence. They ended up stretching out on her couch, him laying on top of her with his head on her chest, his arms tucked under her, her own arms around him. When he finally spoke she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"She asked about my mother."

"Who?"

"Andromeda." Draco answered. "The night I had found her? I had been fully prepared to do any and every malicious thing to make her tell me where you were, but before I got the chance she asked if my mother was still alive. No preamble. No look of shock at finding me in her house. Just that. What she asked shook the hell out of me and I just dropped my wand and broke down right then and there."

"What happened after that?"

"We talked. For hours. At least it felt like hours. She even gave me tea and a pastry. At the end of it all she asked me what I had come for. I told her about you, my task, and then she told me where you were. Just like that. I was so... _angry_ at her for that. For treating me like I wasn't a Deatheater and just deciding that I was good at heart. She told me that I wasn't a killer, and then I stormed out of there."

Hermione was happy that Draco wasn't looking at her because then she could freely let her surprise show. Despite being in compromising positions with the wizard for almost three full months, she had yet to find out why Andromeda had told him where she was. Now she knew. His aunt and her friend had seen something in him that wasn't evil. She took a chance, just like Hermione did, and they were both right.

"Did she suffer?" Hermione asked. The tension in Draco's body told her that she had.

"It didn't last long." He then told her. "I wouldn't let Rabastan keep at it. I couldn't. I killed her because she wanted me to and because I didn't want her to suffer anymore than she had already." He paused and then he chuckled. "It's funny. Both she and my mother died not more than an hour apart. Maybe a little more, but certainly not long. Coincidence?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so, no."

Silence swept in again. It was early in the night. Just after ten p.m. She was tired, but there was one more thing that she had to get off of her chest. It was perhaps a bit selfish, considering what he'd been through in the course of a day, but it had to asked.

"Will you stay now?"

Her voice had sounded so soft, so uncertain when she had asked it. Draco could feel rather than hear the desperation in her tone and how much she equally wanted and was terrified of the answer. He lifted his head from her chest and saw for himself just how anxiety-ridden she truly was.

"Yes," Draco said. "But give me time to make my disappearance natural. I'll pretend to be helping Rabastan, but increase my distance from him until I'm gone completely. Hopefully he'll think me dead or something and not probe too hard. Is that okay?"

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes. Yes, that's perfectly okay."

* * *

Hermione woke up with Draco at her back rather than on her front. They had fallen asleep at some point and shifted seamlessly on the small couch. Draco's arm was around her waist and his face was nuzzling her neck. She was glad that he was getting rest. He needed it more than anyone. And now that he had nothing holding him back he could finally stay. They could remain hidden away and stay safe. However, every few seconds that ticked by, minutes, and then hours, Hermione couldn't help thinking about Andromeda.

She sacrificed herself for Hermione's and Draco's sakes. Friends were being murdered at an alarming rate. But just how many more of them were going to be killed, not for their own sakes, but for hers? Andromeda she knew about, but could she really sit back and live in the unknown? Wondering just who was getting offed just because Rabastan couldn't find her?

"You're tense." Draco's muffled voice hit her ear. Hermione shifted slightly so that she could look at him. Still sad and worn, but at least some sort of peace had seemed to have settled in him somewhere.

"What do you think Rabastan's next steps are going to be?" She asked him. Draco's eyes had still been closed but they were wide open now.

"I can't give you details, but I can be sure that he'll exhaust everything he can to find you."

Hermione bit her lip. "Even hunting down more of my friends."

Draco frowned. "Yes."

Another round of lip chewing before she finally grit her teeth and said, "I need to bug him."

" _Sorry?_ "

"Between now and when you disappear I need you cast an Espionage Charm on Rabastan and his house."

Draco furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"Because I don't know if I can live with the idea of Rabastan killing off everyone I care about because of me." Hermione admitted. Draco's gaze softened and he sighed.

"Knowing what his plans are aren't going to help you sleep at night, Hermione."

"No, it won't. But it'll let me know the right time to give my location away."

Draco sat up so fast that it gave him a headache. " _What? Are you_ _ **mad?**_ "

"Listen to me." Hermione pleaded as she sat up just the same and took his face in her hands. "Andromeda is dead. And you just confirmed that Rabastan will plow through my friends for me. One death is already on my conscience. The moment I get wind of something I'll send my Patronus with my address. And then-"

"Yes, _and then what?_ " Draco said angrily, removing her hands from his face. "Damn Gryffindors. Ready to play the hero and off themselves at the drop of a hat-"

"Andromeda 'offed herself.'" She shot back. "And need I remind you she was a Slytherin."

"Surrounded by Gryffindors, case and point." He grumbled before falling back onto the couch. Hermione leaned over him and pressed her lips to his. He didn't react at first, but it was hard to resist when the woman you loved was showering you with affection. Draco kissed her back, slowly at first, before it began to build into something feverish. But before he could begin to slip her shirt over her head, Hermione pulled away, but not far. Her face hovered over his, a mere centimeter or two away and it was pleasantly hurting him.

"Andromeda sacrificed herself because she cared about us." Hermione continued, her lips grazing his own as she spoke. "And just because I plan on giving away my location, it doesn't mean I plan on dying."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you'll be here too. And Rabastan will be walking into a two-on-one battle."

Understanding dawned on Draco immediately and he couldn't help his obvious surprise. "You're setting up his murder."

She subtly nodded.

"Have you ever killed anyone before?"

She shallowly shook her head.

Draco smirked, finding a darkness masked by goodness in his witch that he secretly loved.

"Rabastan will be a good lesson for you then."

Draco initiated the kiss between them this time, sitting up in the process so that she could properly rid him of his shirt as he separated her from hers. There was something about knowing that his Hermione, his precious saint, had just plotted a man's death in under five minutes. That and the love bites she was spreading down his neck had hardened him quicker than he could've imagined. His trousers were in the way and, quite frankly, so was his lover considering there was no room to lean and take them off.

"This couch is much too small." Draco breathed as Hermione kissed and licked down his chest. She stopped and looked up at him.

"There's always the floor."

 _Is it possible for me to be harder than I already am?_

Draco didn't question it. Both he and Hermione were on the floor, pants gone, and he was wondering just what had he done to deserve her slipping her tongue beyond his navel and sucking him to elicit groans from his mouth in tune to her ministrations. Sure his mother had just died and he had unwillingly killed his aunt, but he was being rewarded _far_ more than he deserved. Not that he was going to question it either.

He could feel himself reaching his peak, but he didn't want it to happen this way. He wanted Hermione to reach hers and fall _repeatedly_ before that happened. And so he stopped her prematurely pulled her up to him before rolling them over. He slipped into her without warning, foregoing all gentleness and listening to her whimper, soon purring wildly amidst cries of his name.

"You'd really kill for me?" Draco questioned huskily in her ear. Hermione found it difficult to answer. She was too distracted by his thrusts, stopping, and pulling out enough to anger her, just to start all over and make her climax over again. "Answer me," he said accompanied with a harsh push of his hips.

Hermione cried out at that and instinctively clenched and dug her nails deeply into his back. "I'd kill for _us._ " She finally got out.

Draco came undone. He shuddered above her and then feathered light kisses on her lips, cheeks, and neck. Hermione closed her eyes at the feel of his affections and sighed happily into his mouth when the last of his kisses settled on hers.

"Would you?" Hermione asked. Draco looked down at her and smiled as he brushed away her hair from her face.

"It would be the only time I ever enjoyed murder."

* * *

 **Author's note:** I think this chapter replaced #8 as my favorite. I don't know about you, but there's something equally touching and sinister about the end.

Thanks for reading!

-WP


	12. That's What Friends Are For

"Rabastan lives in a shack of a house." Draco was saying. "I won't have to use the charm in many places to get a full effect. I will, however, be going through all of his clothes to do so."

He and Hermione were in bed and the sun was shining brightly through the window. At least until he used his wand to close the curtains. He wanted to pretend it was still night and to bask in the rapture that had been their love-making. Granted, talking about someone's murder wasn't very conducive to a romantic environment, but that had oddly been a catalyst for him last night, so who was he to judge?

"Is he predictable?" Hermione asked. "The last thing you need is to be caught roaming around his house."

"'Roam' is a bit too big of word to use to describe such a sparse space." He smirked. She rolled her eyes and groaned.

"You know what I meant."

"Yes, I did. And I'll risk it. If I happen to get caught then I'll just modify his memory."

Hermione bit her lip. Draco knew that to be her solemn thinking face and he curled a finger under her chin.

"You're not re-thinking things, are you?"

"No, no, of course not." She assured him. "I just don't want you to get hurt. Seemingly inevitable, but it's just a matter of _how much._ "

Draco smiled at her and kissed her forehead. "I'll be in and out. I promise." Then he sighed, _his_ personal tell that he was about to say something to put a shift in the air. "Although, we still have to take in account that something _can_ happen."

Hermione nodded. "With our luck and who we are that's an extremely high possibility. And yet I have a feeling you have a particular scenario in mind."

He did, and he knew she was going to fret the longer he spoke so he gathered her into his embrace and tucked them properly under the bed's blankets. She lay half on him, half on the bed, and the top of her hair tickled his chin.

"This works best if I'm already here with you." Draco began. "He's bugged, you send the Patronus, and he comes right for you. But I still have to disappear first. What if, in the process, you hear something? I love you, I do, but I don't think I can trust you _not_ to send a Patronus if you hear someone getting tortured and I'm not here."

Hermione wriggled uncomfortably. No. He really couldn't,

"And," he continued. "I don't think I could trust myself not to interfere on my own either." Now it was his turn to fidget uncomfortably because he could already imagine the backlash from what he was about to say. "I already failed twice in that regard."

Hermione furrowed her brows although he couldn't see. "Twice?"

"Once with you, and the other with Weasley's sister."

Although Draco had a hold on her, Hermione bolted up in bed. " _Ginny?_ What…? You saw Ginny? Where? _When?_ "

"She was Goyle's task." Draco unwillingly admitted as he sat up, his back against the headboard. "I found out last week and offered to help him find her so he didn't hurt her. Not that the redhead needed any help from me." He chuckled, but he stopped quickly at seeing her crestfallen face.

"I haven't seen Ginny months." She said softly, her gaze towards the bed. "I always wondered how she was. If she was...still alive." And then she snapped her attention to him and he realized just how angry she was. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she's still Goyle's task."

"And? _That's_ your reason?" Hermione sat back on her heels and glared. "She's my friend, Draco!"

"They're _all_ your friends!" Draco argued. "Do you _really_ want to hear about everything that happens to them? Do you want to hear more stories like Andromeda's? I could tell you gruesome tales for hours if you like."

Hermione flinched. Draco felt both bad and glad to make her realize how much she didn't really want to know. There was a time when she had actually preferred it.

"Just like you can't live with yourself knowing Rabastan will hunt down your friends, I knew the Weasley girl would haunt you." He said gently. "So I took care of it. I'll _always_ take care of it."

Draco had taken her hand. Hermione looked down at their interwoven fingers and felt the corners of her mouth lift upwards as he caressed her palm.

"We'll always take care of each other." She said after a few passing moments.

"Yes." He agreed as he encouraged her to lay back down with him. "Where you go I go, and that's all there is to it. With that said, I can't in good conscience start with our plan until after we make a backup. There are too many things that could go wrong."

Hermione nodded against his chest. "You're right. What kind of plan were you thinking?"

"It's...less of a what and more of a _who._ "

"You're going to make me sit up again, aren't you?"

"Possibly?"

"Word it carefully, Draco."

Draco took a deep breath, tightening his hold around his witch because he knew she would have quite the physical reaction –if the recent moment was indication enough.

"I want to tell Blaise where you are."

He had to apply a bit more force around her for that one, but despite her struggles she stayed where she was. She did manage bite him on the chest though -a force just above a nibble so that it could almost be considered as playful.

"Did you honestly hear what you just said?" Hermione scoffed. "You want to tell _Blaise Zabini_ where I am. Blaise Zabini! How in Merlin's name is that a backup plan for us? He's… He's…–"

"My best friend." Draco finished. "And he'd do anything I asked him to –even if he hated it."

"How can you be so sure? This isn't some ordinary request. You're asking him to take part in a secret that could get him killed. To protect _a muggleborn._ And a wanted one at that! Still sure he'll say yes? That he'll follow through on your wishes not to kill me or to turn me in?"

"Absolutely," he smiled, albeit a bit sadly, and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "There are very few people who I trust with my life and the things in it. Three of them are dead. You and Blaise are all I have left."

* * *

Draco had known that Blaise would be coming back from his expedition to the Netherlands sometime this evening. Much like his own preoccupation with time, Blaise was a stickler for monopolizing his in a manner that suited himself, not necessarily the cause. That said, if he said that he was going on a trip from Saturday to Tuesday, that's what he was going to do. If the death of a witch kept him from his own demise, then he wouldn't bat an eye. It was the one thing that made Draco hesitant on including him in this traitorous scheme. But, as he and Theo had once talked about, Blaise's sense of selfishness was flawed. When it came to his friends, he was fiercely loyal and dependable. It was the best aspect about him.

"How did it go?" Draco asked once he had made it to Blaise's flat. It was spacious and quite luxurious considering the times that they lived it. But then again, Blaise wasn't about to live like a pauper when he didn't have to.

"It's done, but not without difficulty." Blaise said as he stretched and led the way to his lounge. "Can you believe that he had a bloody dragon?"

Draco scoffed. "You're joking."

"I can't make something like that up. He had the biggest damn dragon I'd ever seen in my life, and you remember what those things were like from watching the Triwizard tournament."

Draco nodded. They both headed straight for the minibar and poured themselves drinks. Blaise downed his quickly and refilled it shortly after.

"How did you manage to kill him then if he had a dragon?"

" _Extremely_ good luck, if not oddly easy after trying to figure out how _not_ to get flayed alive by a fire-breathing beast." Blaise replied. They moved to two couches and sat back comfortably, taking healthy sips of their drinks as they did. "I didn't confront him. I just laid low, watching him, his movements, and trying to find the best way to get at him. But that damn dragon was always in the way! But, of course, not everyone can hold their bladder." He smirked.

Draco raised a brow. "Are you kidding? You killed him while he was on a pissing break?"

"Running in the woods, trees are nature's toilet." Blaise shrugged. "It worked out for me in the end."

 _Not for Charlie Weasley._ Draco brooded internally. He hoped to keep that bit of information secret from Hermione for as long as possible.

"Any good tidings on your end?" Blaise asked.

Draco felt the weight of the pending conversation pulling him down. He swallowed. Then he downed all of his drink and set aside the empty glass on the coffee table between them.

"I found her."

Blaise's eyes lit up. "Did you really? Good for you! Now the Dark Lord can get get off your back. Was it hard or easy? My guess is hard. She's not some pushover witch."

"You're right about that." Draco nervously chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "I found her three months ago, Blaise."

Blaise's face fell into one of confusion. "Sorry?"

"Contrary to what I made you and others believe it didn't take me long." He continued. "And I've been going to her, every night, since I did. _Every night._ "

The significance of that wasn't lost on him. Blaise put his drink down slowly and then he got to his feet. Draco watched every move he made. The hand he put over his mouth. Him dropping it to his side and staring like he had no idea who this blond was on his couch. The narrowing of his eyes. The opening of his mouth as he bellowed:

"Bleeding hell, Draco! You're supposed to _killing_ her! Not shagging her!"

"I know that." Draco answered, he, too, getting up and going over to him. "And I tried, Blaise. I did. I tried for _days_ , but I couldn't do it. I love her."

Blaise's mouth dropped. "Love? _Love?_ I can't believe it! You're throwing away _everything_ for a mudblood?"

"Don't call her that." Draco snapped.

Blaise huffed. "I'm just calling a tomato by its name. What next? Are you going to twitch when I say blood traitor-?"

He stopped talking when Draco rushed him and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. With his free hand, the blond had his wand aimed at his throat.

"I mean it, Blaise."

Blaise clenched his jaw. His eyes went from the wand to his friend's fist and then to Draco's face. "So we've come to this then? Is that it? Going to threaten me, maybe even kill me over a little name-calling? Hm? Go for it. It'll give me a reason to kick your arse then."

Draco bared his teeth like a predator, but still he lowered his wand. A second later he dropped it and punched Blaise as hard as he could in the jaw. The Italian stumbled back and stared in shock. A hand to his mouth revealed that he was bleeding and he sneered at Draco before running at him and tackling him to the ground.

"Is she really worth it?!" Blaise shouted at him as he punched him in the face. "Your life?!"

Blaise went for another punch but Draco moved his head so that his fist collided with the floor. Blaise groaned aloud as he retracted his hand and Draco gave him another hit across his other jaw. Blaise rolled off of him and Draco wriggled away.

"She's worth it." Draco said as he spat blood. "She's worth everything."

Blaise's eyes narrowed. "The life of your mother too?"

"…My mother's dead."

Blaise blinked. "What?"

"She died while you were away." Draco elaborated, and he hoped he didn't look as sad as he felt.

"Died or killed? There's a difference in our line of work, you know."

"Died. The conditions, the malnutrition… She couldn't take it."

Silence fell. Both men were still on the floor, bleeding from the mouth, Draco from the nose too. Blaise was the first to break it, and one would never think that he had been angry just moments before.

"I'm sorry."

Draco nodded. "So am I."

"The Dark Lord doesn't have anything to torture you with anymore. Nothing except his wand."

"And Hermione if he finds her. That's why you have to help me keep her safe."

Blaise nearly choked. " _Keep her safe?_ Are you _insane?!_ "

"I don't have a choice!" Draco argued. "Hermione and I are plotting to kill Rabastan. Before then I hope to disappear."

"Disappear?"

"With her. I want to stay where she is and no one will be able to find us."

"Let me guess," Blaise licked blood away from the corner of his mouth. "Fidelius Charm?"

Draco nodded. "Yes."

"And you're just going to leave." He said bitterly. "Just like that? Did you give _one_ thought to who you'd be leaving behind with these sick bastards?"

Draco suddenly felt guilty. Then he said at an almost inaudible whisper. "But you'd know where we are…"

"Sure. Let me be the third wheel to this match made in hell." Blaise scowled.

Draco sighed. "How about we focus on the fact that if things all go according to plan Rabastan will be dead."

"And if it doesn't? Nothing is _ever_ that easy."

"I know. And that's why I need you. If something happens to me, whatever it is, I need someone to be on her side. You _have_ to help me. To help her. You're the only person I trust and the Dark Lord has no reason to be suspicious of you."

"You're kidding, right?" Blaise snorted. "He has _every_ reason to be suspicious of me because I'm your friend! Not to mention I'm the third of friends who are bloody traitors! One, might I remind you, is already dead!"

"Blaise," Draco pleaded. " _Please._ "

Blaise was furious. His best friend was begging. _Actually_ begging! And for what? For him to help conceal and keep safe a mudblood that was somehow holding his heart hostage?

Blaise groaned aloud. "If I didn't love you like a brother I'd kill you."

Draco smiled. "Likewise. You're a good friend, mate."

"Oh piss off," He sneered as he sucked his teeth. "I think you loosened a tooth."

"You might've broken my nose, but you don't see me bitching about it."

"Yeah, yeah…"

* * *

 **Author's note:** I've been sitting on this fight between Draco and Blaise since this story first started. So glad to finally get it out :)

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Dindore:** Glad that you liked it! There's something that I love about Hermione and Draco dancing on the border between good and bad.


	13. The Layers of an Italian Onion

Hermione was in her living room waiting. Before he had left earlier that day Draco had told her that he would be bringing Blaise by tonight. She was still anxious about this little meet and greet. Before finding him in her cottage, and yes, still being scared that he would kill her, Draco had been one of the _lesser_ Deatheaters. Not in skill by any means, but rather inactive and less brutal in comparison to his counterparts. Blaise, on the other hand, was legendary. No, he wasn't as brutal either in his murders, but the fact still remained that he had killed much more than his friend. To have someone so well-practiced, so... _willing_ to kill, didn't put her mind at rest. What did was the fact that Draco trusted him. He wouldn't do anything to put her in harm's way and so she had to believe –force herself to do so even –that this wouldn't backfire.

And so, when both Draco and Blaise walked through the front door of her cottage, Hermione tried her best to be civil, but the cold expression on the latter gentleman's face was working against her.

Draco left his friend's side to stand by Hermione's. Blaise stood where he was and simply stared at them both. He didn't look at anything _but_ them, and in particular letting his eyes travel to their interlocked hands before settling his attention on the brunette.

"Just what kind of sex are you giving him to turn him into a traitor?"

" _Blaise,_ " Draco scolded, but the witch at his side stopped him.

"No, no, Draco, it's fine." Hermione said, suddenly full of Gryffindor courage. "I mean, Zabini's never liked me. I've never liked him either, so he's entitled to have his opinions. It doesn't change the fact that he's here now, and he's going to help hide me –the mudblood that he hates." She smiled then and added with a laugh, "This must be killing you."

Blaise was seething. "Do you always go out of your way to piss off the people in your corner?"

"No. However, it is a good way to gage how far I can push you without you attacking me."

"I'd suggest you be careful how you push."

"Duly noted," she sighed and then temporarily gave in. "Thank you for helping me."

He huffed. "Thank you my arse. And just so you know," Blaise glared at Draco. "I hate you right now. I mean I _really_ effing hate you."

"Yeah, I know. And you'll deck me in the face and then we'll hug it out afterwards like before." Draco drawled. "Sound about right?"

"Actually I was thinking about kicking you in the bollocks. That sounds a hell of a lot better."

Hermione chuckled. "Are you _sure_ you're best friends?"

"I question it every damn day." Blaise grumbled. He shook his head and walked over to the couch and collapsed onto it.

Draco grinned at his back and then checked himself to make sure he had his wand. "I'm going to head to Rabastan's and get this bugging thing over with." He said to Hermione. "I might as well do it while Blaise is here."

Hermione bit her lip, but she nodded. Draco found the fear she had for his life to be delightful and he leaned down to kiss her, fully aware that Blaise was watching. Perhaps it was a bit sadistic, but he felt a twinge of satisfaction at the widening of his eyes and slight mouth agape. He pulled away and smirked at him while Blaise scoffed.

"The signal for trouble?" He asked, completely ignoring the bait that was that unholy display.

"If I don't come back in three hours."

"Three hours? Draco, the man lives in a broom cupboard for Merlin's sake."

"I know that. Which means if I don't come back after that time frame you know something is _definitely_ wrong."

Blaise's face turned serious. "And then?"

Draco looked at Hermione and tensed. "Get her out of here and kill Rabastan for me."

Draco left after that and soon it was just Hermione and Blaise. The brunette glanced at him, sitting there, on her couch, setting his attention on random things in the cottage. She honestly didn't know what to do. Doing anything in the living room or kitchen was too open because she knew that he would be watching her. She could shower, but something about being naked while he was in such close proximity made her shiver.

"How do you eat?"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Sorry?"

"Food?" Blaise clarified. "Nourishment? _Sustenance?_ "

She grumbled and crossed her arms. "I get it. What of it?"

"Well, you can't exactly go shopping. With how long you've been in hiding I half-expected you to look like a skeleton. By the looks of you you're far from it."

Hermione's jaw dropped. " _Did you just call me fat?_ "

Blaise's lips curled upward as he set his feet up on the coffee table. "I'm a bit more respectful than that, Granger. I'd say…well-fed."

"You're impossible." She fumed. He merely shrugged.

"No worse than Draco and yet you sleep with him. So, the food?"

She groaned in frustration and sat in an armchair. "The Order has several food pantries continuously stocked by free house elves who are loyal to us. With a couple charms, we managed to set up safe houses with a direct link to them. That said, whatever food item I use here automatically gets restocked from the pantry."

Blaise nodded in approval. "Smart. Now that that question is out of the way, let's move on to another, shall we?"

Hermione rolled her thumbs into her temples and groaned. "Are you planning on questioning me all night?"

"Did you really think that I wouldn't? You're having sex with a _Deatheater_. The very notion of it baffles my mind."

"Draco's sleeping with a muggleborn resistance member." She countered. "How come you're not foaming at the mouth at that?"

"I already did." Blaise confirmed. "And Draco and I punched it out. However, if we put things in perspective, what man in his right mind would deny a woman –blood status aside –when she's willingly giving it away? _Especially_ in times like these? Comfort is a luxury."

Hermione's anger flared. "I wasn't just 'giving it away.' Draco and I… We connected!"

"I'd certainly say so." Blaise laughed. "All I'm saying is that this whole situation is a lot more interesting coming from your side of the story." He took his feet down from the coffee table and set them on the floor. After leaning forward he said, "Tell me. How does it feel to be sleeping with the enemy and, in essence, betraying your friends?"

Hermione was seething. She, too, leaned forward in her seat as she replied, "What do you want me to say? That I feel guilty? That I feel like I'm a disgrace to the side of light? That I could've used Draco for insider knowledge to help my friends, but I haven't?" She sighed and leaned back. "I've thought and felt all of that. However, it pales in comparison to how I feel when I'm with Draco. And as a bonus," she smiled, "I get to bask in afterglow and calm my body down from wild orgasms moments after Draco's been between my legs. Does that answer satisfy you?"

Blaise would never say it, but yes, her answer satisfied him. Instead he asked, "When did you get so cheeky?"

"When did you get so bitter?"

"War's a pain in the arse."

"Then I believe you've answered your own question."

Blaise chuckled. He tucked his hands behind his head and let his eyes roam all over her. He saw her squirm and it made him chuckle even more.

"Draco's lost his marbles over you." He said after a few passing moments. "An intelligent, snarky little witch with, unfortunately, inferior blood running through her veins. Were that not the case life would be so much better for you."

"I can't believe that I let Draco talk me into letting _you_ keep watch over me." Hermione snapped. "Someone who has the audacity to call me inferior. Someone who thinks my blood is dirty-"

"I never said that your blood is dirty."

"Bollocks. You just said-"

"I know what I said." Blaise cut her off. "But let me explain something to you. You and other muggleborns like you _are_ inferior, but it has nothing to do you with your blood. I did, however, just used that phrasing, so I apologize for misinforming you. If I were to cut your hand open right now, you'd bleed red just as much as I would. Terms like pureblood, half-blood, mudblood… It's nothing but semantics. Labels turned into acerbic verbal arsenals when in reality they mean absolutely nothing. It would sound much better –not to mention be more accurate –if I cut out the 'half' entirely and focused solely on magic. _Pure_ magic and let's say…diluted.

'Take families like Draco's or mine. We're pure because we come from a string of witches and wizards going back through _centuries._ That makes us pure in magic whereas for you? You essentially came out of nothing. Well, no, I can't say nothing, because like what that muggle bloke Einstein said about matter, magic can't be created or destroyed. Somewhere in your history, Granger, was a witch or wizard on both your maternal and paternal side. And it lingered, dormant, trickling down your family tree until it was expressed in you.

'Can you see now why 'purebloods' are so adamant about exterminating you? About why they hate you? It's because someone like you, inferior in magical heritage, are able to perform magic just as well or even better than a witch or wizard who has strong ties to magic. This, in essence, makes muggleborns unique. However, instead of treating you as such, the term 'mudblood' and the negative connotation of 'inferior' cuts you down and fuels a hatred that, in all honesty, is nothing but encultured jealousy. So yes, I think you're inferior, Granger, but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. It just… _is_."

In all her life, Hermione had never been more stunned. First she was hating him with all her might, but now? Now she was confused by him.

"If that's what you think," she said tentatively, "then why are you a Deatheater?"

For a brief moment Blaise's façade faltered. He sucked his teeth once and looked in the direction of her face, but still not at it.

"I put myself above everyone and everything, Granger. Except for my friends. They're the only exception. Well, _Draco_ , is the only exception considering Theo and his…circumstances." His voice hitched, but he cleared his throat and continued. "That said, I'd Crucio myself if it benefited me. I follow the Dark Lord because it _benefits me._ "

"You're an opportunist."

"If that's what you want to call it." He shrugged. "I'd say I'm a survivalist. And if your side ever starts winning, your lot might just see me on my knees, begging for amnesty."

Hermione couldn't help but snort. "You don't look much like the begging sort."

Blaise smiled. "I'm not. But I sure will be if that's what it takes for me to live."

* * *

Having been raised with the people who were members of the dark, Draco had a wealth of knowledge locked away in his head. Details of their lives. Their likes, dislikes, and fetishes. And, most importantly, where they lived.

Deatheater homes tended to be one or the other. It was either a lavish living environment like where Blaise lived or any of the more "influential" Deatheaters like the Greengrasses. If not that, it was some derelict home unfit for receiving guests. The thought of it made Draco's nose crinkle. Reprobate or not, that was no excuse to live like a street urchin.

As he had told Hermione, Rabastan's place was of the latter sort and it was quite in the middle of nowhere. His wards were laughable which worked to Draco's advantage as he took them all down. He would put them all back up once inside the home in case Rabastan came back while he was still inside. No need for him to think that someone had broken into his house.

Draco was very much opposed to having to breathe in the air once he had entered the house and redone the wards. The should-be-condemned home opened straight into a living room with a small kitchen off to the right. Beyond a wall would be a small bedroom and bathroom and that was all. The furniture was old and ratty. The carpet needed a _serious_ deep cleaning. There were old newspapers scattered around. There were dishes and old food around the kitchen. More now than ever did Draco think that Rabastan needed to die. If not for Hermione's safety, but for the health of the planet.

Draco started with bugging in the living room. At first he had planned to a gentle sweep, but now opted against it. He placed the charm in every crease and corner of the furniture. He placed it on the cupboards and on every piece of dishware there was. When he was finished he headed into the bedroom and stood frozen in the doorway. There was a woman there, gagged and tied to the bed by the wrists and ankles, and she locked eyes with him immediately. Had there not been something muffling her mouth her scream probably would've stretched for miles. She was partially naked and obviously had taken several rounds of abuse. His mind couldn't help but imagine Hermione there and what her fate might be. It sickened him.

Despite wanting to set the woman free, Draco knew that he couldn't do that without arousing Rabastan's suspicions. Instead he cast a Stunning Spell on her, wiped him from her memory, and then proceeded to loosen the binds on her wrists and ankles. He even lightly cut through the ropes. At least this way when she came to she would be able to break free, if not get a couple of kicks to Rabastan's groin if/when he got close enough.

Once that was done he bugged the bed and the remaining furniture in the room. Draco grimaced at having to comb through Rabastan's clothes to bug them all, but it was necessary. He headed to the bathroom then and finished the job. All of the bugging he had done would be connected to the stress ball that Hermione had at home. They'd be able to hear everything through it. It was perfect.

Satisfied, Draco was leaving the bathroom when he heard the fireplace activate. He dipped back into bathroom faster than he thought he could move and controlled his breathing as he pressed his back against the wall. He could hear Rabastan muttering to himself. He couldn't really understand him, but he did hear something about wanting to "treat himself." At that Draco immediately cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and slipped into the bedroom with the woman.

"Rennervate," he whispered. She was awake and fussing once again and even more so when Rabastan came into the room. He smiled gruesomely at her and closed the door.

"Heard me coming, did you?"

She struggled, kicking her feet and pulling her wrists as Rabastan shrugged off his jacket as well as his shoes. While in his corner Draco's heart was racing. His skin crawled as he saw the man stalk his way to the bed and lifted a leg to get onto it. Draco raised his wand again and loosed the rope on the woman's ankles just a bit more. It was enough give her ample flexibility, once Rabastan was hovering over her and proceeding to undo his belt buckle, to first knee him in the stomach and then give a full kick in his family jewels. Rabastan's screams were joy to Draco's ears as well as seeing the woman fully get free and go on to kick and punch at her captor before disapparating on the spot. Draco couldn't help but scoff. If Rabastan was smart and he _really_ wanted to keep a woman hostage, he should've went for a muggle. No disapparating. No killing you if she stole your wand.

Luckily that wasn't the case. While Rabastan was moaning and groaning on the floor Draco stunned him from where he stood. Then he went on to bug the clothes that he was wearing and had shucked off when he had come into the room. With any luck, Draco will have disappeared from existence before the week was out and the sorry excuse for a man will be dead before the start of the next one.

Draco grinned and slipped himself out the room. By the time he stood outside of the house, ready to head back to Hermione, his arm burned. What could Voldemort want now?

* * *

Hermione did eventually shower. After Blaise's informative rant she felt somewhat better about being alone with him. Although, someone without any clear allegiances could be dangerous. _Very_ dangerous. She only hoped that what he said was true and that his loyalty to Draco outweighed everything else.

It was as she had finished dressing that she heard soft sounds from her room. It sounded like…snoring? Or maybe labored breathing? She peaked her head out of her room and found Blaise reading one of her books. Obviously the noise wasn't coming from him. She furrowed her brow and went back into her room. That's when she saw the stress ball and that it dimly glowed.

Hermione smiled, picked it up, and then headed into the living room.

"Draco did it."

Blaise looked up from his book with a brow raised. "Great. You can listen to Rabastan sleep then. Merlin forbid you hear him going at it with a woman."

Hermione cringed. "I did _not_ need that as an image, thank you."

Blaise shrugged and went back to his reading as Hermione set the ball down on the couch with her.

"If he's done then where is he?"

Blaise was wondering the same question although he wasn't about to ask it aloud. Instead he turned a page and replied, "Three hours aren't gone yet. No need to worry."

"All I ever do is worry," she mumbled. It clearly wasn't meant for him to hear. Her fear was evident, but he wasn't going to pile onto it. Instead he went along with a different route of inquiry.

"This whole thing would be easier if you just lured Rabastan tomorrow and gutted him once he got here."

"It would." She nodded. "But everyone knows he and Draco were assigned to work together. If Rabastan just shows up dead people might think he did it."

"And start looking for him." Blaise finished. "Although, people may still think him responsible even after he's gone."

"Perhaps, but we're hoping the odds are less likely in that case."

"Fair enough,"

A moment passed and Blaise finally ditched his book. He was scrutinizing the witch again. If he was honest with himself, he hadn't been this intrigued by someone in quite some time.

"You know, Granger, I can't imagine you killing someone. In self-defense, maybe, but in an offensive maneuver? Not so much."

"I don't see a difference." Hermione told him. "A death is a death."

"That's where you're wrong." Blaise said seriously. "Defending yourself is _completely_ different than attempted murder. There's a…sense of relief when you've warded off an attack. Your life is safe. You've overcome an obstacle. That's fine. But murder? All the cards are in your hand then. _You_ are responsible for whether a person lives or dies. And when you've committed the act? It takes something from you. It _breaks_ you. Do you really think you can handle being broken?"

"How do you?"

"How does Draco?"

Hermione was caught off guard by that. Draco was, indeed, a mess. But Blaise? He seemed so well put-together. But then again, he didn't have Voldemort riding his back. That was one extra pressure the man before her was lucky not to have to endure.

"He suffers." Hermione answered after a while. Blaise nodded.

"So do I. The only difference between us is that I tell no one about it."

The brunette chewed on her bottom lip. "…You could, you know."

Blaise scoffed. "To who? You? Last I checked I wasn't the one you spread your legs for on a nightly basis. I think I'll pass on the confessional."

Hermione grumbled angrily as she stood. "All you had to say was no, you arse."

"Is everything alright?"

Both Hermione and Blaise turned in the direction of Draco's voice. Hermione folded her arms over her chest and addressed him.

"Are you hurt at all?"

Draco furrowed his brow. "No. Is the stress ball working?"

She said nothing but picked up the ball from the couch, soft sounds still emanating from it, and tossed it for him to catch.

"Perfectly fine. Come to bed when _he's_ gone."

Draco watched as Hermione stormed off to the bedroom and slammed the door shut. The blond turned to his friend and stared at him questioningly.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing," Blaise said innocently as he stood. "Just showcasing my particular brand of whimsy."

"Or," Draco countered. "You managed to cock-block me while I was gone. Well done."

"When I find a witch who tickles my fancy and other things, you're welcome to repay the favor."

"Oh, _trust me_ , I'll do just that. Now, get out and take this with you."

Blaise caught something shiny that Draco threw his way and held it up to his eyes. "I don't need money for my services, oh Mr. Malfoy."

"It's not a regular coin." Draco explained, ignoring the sarcasm. "It has a Protean Charm on it. If either Hermione or I need you it'll get warm. Hopefully we won't have to use it since it appears that my disappearance will be coming much quicker than anticipated."

Blaise scrunched his brows together. "How so?"

"Just came from seeing the Dark Lord. He's putting me on another task –one that takes me far away from here. Quite easy for me to fall off the face of the earth, don't you think?"

"Very easy," Blaise grinned. "I take it you're 'starting your task' tomorrow?"

"Tonight, as a matter of fact." Draco beamed. "I informed the Dark Lord that I would be heading out this evening."

"Excellent." His friend flipped the coin in the air. "Now go see if I pissed your witch off enough to keep you from a happily ever after."

"Prick," the blond scowled. "And _don't_ lose that."

Blaise chuckled and stuffed the coin into his pocket before tipping an imaginary hat to him. "Yes, dear."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Blaise's blood purity rant. That's all I have to say. I've been sitting on that one for a while too.

Thanks for reading!

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Dindore:** Ah, I do feel bad about Charlie. I think deaths will show down for a bit. Hopefully I don't have to retract that statement lol. And I promise there's a happy ending! It's just a ton of obstacles to get there! I'm glad that you liked the fight scene. I'm insanely curious as to your feelings on Blaise after this chapter.


	14. A Wrinkle in the Plan

Draco headed into the bedroom soon after Blaise left. Hermione was in bed, under the covers, her back towards him.

"Is he gone?" She asked without looking at him. Draco nodded although she couldn't see and began to transfigure his clothes into decent nightwear.

"Yes,"

Hermione rolled over onto her back and stared pointedly at him. " _How_ in Merlin's name can you stomach him?"

Draco couldn't help his smile as he climbed into bed. "He's one of the few people who can beat me out of being a smart arse. I would've been a fool to turn down a friend who complements me so well."

Hermione scoffed. "You are _nothing_ like him."

"I wouldn't say that." He countered as he got under the sheets and pulled her close to him. "You just so happen to be exposed to a side of me that is quite opposite him. I can guarantee that anyone outside of you would probably think that I'm just like him –arrogant, snarky, absolutely intolerable… There was a time that you actually thought that about me."

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist. It was as she hooked her leg around his own that he realized she was completely naked.

"It's funny then," she began, "how circumstances changes people. I wonder what it'll take for Zabini to be a little less… _him._ "

"If I could offer a suggestion I've learned from experience?" Draco offered wryly as his fingers traced up and down her spine. "An equally challenging witch. Someone who will force him to break down his walls even if he doesn't want to."

"Oh, so I forced you to love me, did I?" Hermione teased as she poked him in the chest. Draco laughed and stilled her poking by folding his hand over hers.

"On the contrary, you forced your way to get me to open up. As for loving you, well," he shrugged sheepishly –the only indication that would betray his anxiousness. "That didn't need any force at all."

Hermione fought to control her own blushing. She used her finger to trace along his jawline and said coyly, "Aw, Mr. Malfoy, your romantic side is showing."

Draco cocked a brow at her and huffed. "That's it. I'm not saying anything else for the rest of the night."

"Good. You don't need to talk anyway."

Draco was pleasantly amused when Hermione used her wand to rid him of his pants. He jokingly called her "lazy" for not doing it by hand, but he hardly cared when she climbed on top of him and their tongues danced behind each other's lips as they kissed. Draco stuck by earlier assertions. He didn't deserve her. Regardless, it didn't matter. He had her now, and she loved him, and he loved her. Nothing was going to keep them apart.

He'd kill anyone who dared to even try.

* * *

Draco woke up the next day to find Hermione sitting upright in bed with the stress ball in her hands. He yawned, stretched, and rolled over onto his side and stared at her naked form from the side. She hadn't even bothered to pull the bed sheets up to her chest. He smiled at that. He would've never thought that at some point in the future he would have her, of all witches, so comfortable in her nudity around him. Fate was quite interesting in that regard.

"Anything good?" He asked her. Hermione jumped, nearly letting the ball fall out of her hands in the process. He chuckled. "Well, you're twitchy."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "You try sitting in a quiet room and then hear someone speak. You'd be startled too."

"I'll have to startle you more often." He gestured to her breasts before adding cheekily, "You bounce when you are."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Hermione rolled her eyes before throwing her pillow at his face. He caught it before collided with him. "Is that _all_ you ever think about?"

"Not at all." Draco laughed. "If you recall, I asked if you heard anything good on that thing."

Hermione looked down at the stress ball. It appeared that Rabastan was still doing what he had been when she woke up and grimaced.

"Rabastan has atrocious eating habits."

"Ah yes," Draco agreed. "He's quite incapable of chewing with his mouth closed. And then there's the _smacking._ "

"Unfortunately," she confirmed before setting the ball on the nightstand and resettling herself back in bed.

Draco noticed, quite amusingly, how she tried not to move too much as though it was her mission to avoid jiggling. He kept his laughing at her expense on the inside and pulled her body to his so that he could wrap his arm around her. Hermione closed her eyes and enjoyed the body heat –not to mention his face nuzzling her neck. Hard on the outside with a sweet center, Draco _definitely_ wasn't what he appeared to be.

"What'll be next, Draco?"

He furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"After Rabastan's dead." Hermione clarified. "What happens after that?"

"Well, I stay here with you for starters. My disappearance was made easy last night after the Dark Lord summoned me."

Hermione tensed. "He called you? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I would have if you hadn't distracted me." Draco replied with a grin. He suffered a small slap to his arm and could practically feel the flushing of her skin. "He put me on a new task that's meant to send me far out west. Something about squashing mini revolts. Think of how easy it'll be for me to head out there and never come back."

"How far west does he want you to go?"

"Germany. Frankfurt, to be precise."

Hermione immediately smiled. "Neville. He fled there. I guess he's causing enough havoc to upset your boss."

Draco chuckled. "Longbottom… First he's cutting snakes in half and now he's leading rebels? What the hell happened?"

"War happened."

He had no choice but to agree. They both laid there in silence for a little while, the sound of rain starting to pound on the windows and Rabastan grumbling about where to start looking for "that damn witch."

"You-Know-Who has a line of soldiers just waiting to do his bidding." Hermione said after what felt like hours of quiet. "If only we could get rid of them like we're planning for Rabastan."

Draco pursed his lips in agreement, the thought of it sending a shiver of happiness down his spine. "I can see it now." He mused and let his fingers walk along her arm as he daydreamed. "Finding them. Cornering them. Ending their lives before they have the chance to kill anyone else. They're exterminating your lot, so why can't we do the same?"

Hermione raised her upper body slightly so that she could look into his face. "Is that a serious question?"

"Depends on the seriousness of your interest." Draco answered her, but he saw it in her eyes. She was serious alright. That infamous look of determination in her face was undeniable. That odd, yet satisfying attraction to this devious side of his witch was back, and he suddenly wondered what this meant for his character.

"Were you always like this?" He asked. Hermione tilted her head and frowned.

"Like what?"

He smiled and ran his hands down her back until they settled neatly on her bum. "Wonderfully vindictive,"

Hermione chuckled and then she sucked in a bit of air when he gently stroked her between her thighs.

"I would hardly…" she paused and bit her lip. "Call myself... _vindictive._ "

"You want to seek revenge on the people who've hurt your friends." Draco replied, working his fingers as deep as he could to elicit the facial expressions and moans from her that he loved so much. " _That_ ," he whispered before delicately planting a kiss on her neck, "is the nature of being vindictive, love."

Hermione felt his tongue swipe along her neck as he said the word "love" and she shuddered. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him. His busy hand had stopped, but she replaced the sensation by slipping herself onto him and allowing her bedroom to be filled with sounds that didn't only belong to her.

Vindictive.

To be honest she hated the word. She didn't _want_ to kill anyone. However, as much as she would rather not, it was a necessity. She was a woman who did what she had to do. Always had been. From setting Snape's robes on fire to keeping Rita Skeeter -the _bug_ that she was -in a jar, some things were non-negotiable. Just like making sure no one came between her and Draco or hurt any more of her friends.

And, of course, and perhaps at a cost to her friendships, Draco would always come first. She loved him too much for him not to.

* * *

Blaise wasn't a dependent person. On the contrary he could carry himself quite well alone. However, he was still human. The human race wasn't meant to be alone. At least not for an extended period of time. Theo was dead. Draco was deep in his feelings and in a certain witch. And as for him? He was sitting by himself buttering some toast and drinking tea that was too sweet.

Pathetic.

Blaise grunted as he bit into his breakfast and washed it down with his tea. HIs plans for the day were a bit up in the air and all depended on what the Dark Lord wanted. He'd tell him that his task was completed and be given a new one. What a boring and robotic life he lived… Get up, eat, kill, rest, and repeat. Aside from rarely suffering from loneliness, he was hardly ever jealous either. But now he was envious of his friend whose cares had dwindled to keeping his witch safe and satisfied.

With a sigh, he retrieved his napkin from his lap and tossed it onto his plate. He was about to head to Malfoy Manor when Rabastan came out of nowhere and plopped himself down on the seat in front of him.

"Blaise,"

"Rabastan," he replied with a hint of a scowl. "I was just about to leave, so if you'll excuse me-"

"Not so fast," Rabastan stalled. "I wanted to ask you a question or two."

Blaise's brain started ticking. He was fully aware that Draco and Granger would be listening to this. He cared very little about what the prick had to say -always had. But considering the circumstances he had been recently roped into, he indulged him.

"Make it quick. I've got somewhere to be."

"Did Draco give you any insights as to how he was tracking Granger?"

"You were working with him." Blaise pointed out. "Draco should have told you everything then."

Rabastan scoffed. "He was about as useful as a broken wand. The Dark Lord wants a meeting this evening. I need something to bring him."

Blaise couldn't help the curve of his lips and leaned back in his seat. "Afraid of a little scolding from our fearless leader, are we?"

"Piss off." The older man sneered. "Not everyone is as proficient in killing as you. I take it the Weasley is dead, yes?"

Blaise felt his insides clench. He could imagine Granger ripping into Draco right about now as he answered Rabastan's question with a yes. Thank Merlin it wasn't _him_ bedding her. To have your… Your what? Lover? Boyfriend? To have your whatever-the-hell killing your friends well...that was one seriously screwed up situation. Grade A prescriptions and therapy to get through something like that -if you did at all.

"You're a big boy, Rabastan." Blaise taunted as he stood. "You'll figure something out."

* * *

Draco had been exiled to the couch. First Hermione had asked which Weasley did Blaise mean. He told her that it wasn't Ron and had hoped that that would've been it. Of course he had been sadly mistaken and she continued to ask who it was. He refused, knowing wouldn't have made her feel better, but she fought him on it. She countered his argument by saying that all she'll end up doing is thinking about which Weasley and it would drive her mad. Eventually he did tell her. And yes, she cried. And, as predicted, she was furious with him -less so because he hadn't told her about the death of her friend, but because that it was _Blaise damned Zabini_ to have been the one to bring it about.

"How can you expect me to feel safe with him knowing that he killed Charlie a mere day or two ago?!" Hermione had screamed at him.

And then she had promptly kicked him out of her bedroom, locking and silencing the room once he was gone. He wished the bloody idiot had just nodded instead of saying an outright _yes._ But then again, the bad vibes had already been out in the air, hadn't they?

Draco groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. His and Hermione's relationship was toxic -in both a good and bad way. Good because she was an addiction he was fortunate to have. Bad because everything in his life sought to destroy them. Would he _ever_ wake up from this nightmare, but still keep the happy parts of his dream?

"Draco, you _have_ to hear this." Hermione's voice came from behind him. He hadn't even heard her leave her room. However, he had very little time to contemplate it as he heard the urgency in her voice and saw the stress ball in her hands.

"What is it?"

"Listen,"

It was actually quite hard to do so. The sound, once crystal clear, was muffled as though Rabastan was getting undressed. What they _could_ hear, though, was troubling anyway.

" _...filthy rags."_

" _...my clothes."_

" _So? Here...burn…"_

Hermione met Draco's eyes. "Is that Rodolphus with him?"

"Yes. And I think… I think he wants to burn his brother's clothes."

"But why? That can't merely be a coincidence after you bugged everything."

"Shh," Draco quieted quickly as more of Rodolphus and Rabastan's conversation was heard.

" _...some sort of trap." Rodolphus hissed at his brother._

" _By who?"_

" _Does it matter? Just...snitch...veela...her trail."_

There was the clear sound of a spell igniting and then that was the end of anything else they might have heard. Forget being mad. Hermione was frantic while Draco was running through a million scenarios that could be happening right at this moment.

"How did he know?" Hermione questioned before her face drained of color. "Did Blaise?"

"No," he said sternly. "I trust him, and you need to as well."

The brunette sincerely didn't want to, but she bit back her refusal. "What could have happened then?"

Draco took up pacing. He chewed his tongue mercilessly before letting out a frustrated groan. "Wards… That's the only thing I can think of."

"You've told me that Rabastan has pathetic wards."

"He does." Draco nodded. "His brother, on the other hand, does not. My uncle must have a set to detect any Intrusion Spells."

"... _If_ that's the case then Rabastan must've set them off when he went to see him." Hermione concluded and began to bite her nails furiously. "What are we going to do? We're not going to know what he's doing _and_ they were talking about a 'veela' who could be no one other than Fleur! How would they even begin to know where to look for her?"

"The same reason Rabastan was asking Blaise about me and my methods. He's working through my friends, and Theo had a _very_ clear connection to Fleur as you well remember."

"But to find her he'd have to find that Marcus fellow who helped Theo in the first place. " She suddenly gasped. " _Please_ don't tell me that Rabastan knows who he is."

"I don't know." Draco answered honestly as he led the way into the bedroom. He looked around once before spotting his wand on the night table closest to the window. "But then again, no one was supposed to know about Theo and Fleur either."

Hermione watched him pick up his wand. Fine. But when he began to put on shoes she began to panic. "What are you doing?"

"We don't know what he's doing -you said it yourself." Draco replied. He began looking for his coin too and pocketed it once he found it. "Rabastan might know about Marcus. He might not. He might get to Fleur and her daughter, or he might not. There's too much uncertainty and I can't risk it."

"That doesn't explain _what you're doing._ " Hermione reiterated, her heart rate accelerating dangerously. Draco stared at her, her fright written neatly on her face and his stomach turning at the sight.

"I have to tail him myself."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Are you out of your mind?! You're supposed to be in _Germany_ , Draco. Not following Deatheaters!"

"Hermione-"

"No!" She screamed at him. She could feel her body shaking and could barely clench her fists properly. "You can't leave. I… I could send my Patronus! We could get rid of Rabastan right here, right now!"

"What if he's still with Rodolphus?" Draco argued. "Who knows what other Deatheaters may be with him. We're prepared for a two-on-one. Nothing more than that."

"But-!"

Draco grabbed Hermione's face with his hands and crashed his lips on hers. It was hard, rough, and perhaps a bit sloppy, but there was a sense of urgency there that let her know he was desperate to have it. And so was she. She kissed him back with just as much ferocity and felt sad, almost angry, when he pulled away.

"No buts," Draco said softly, his thumbs running across her cheeks and paused briefly at her lips. "Theo died while trying to protect them. I can't let his death be in vain. I won't."

Hermione closed her eyes. Anything to make the stinging stop.

"All I want to do is tail him." He continued. "And when I find him alone I'll use the coin and let you know. Our plan can still work."

Her eyes snapped open at that. His greys were intently staring back at her and she raised her hands to his face. "You make sure you come back to me, Draco Malfoy. I mean it. The _moment_ you find Rabastan alone _don't_ hesitate. I'll send my Patronus. You come _straight back here_ and we finish the job together. Got it?"

Draco nodded and smiled. "Even in times of distress you're still bossy." He kissed her once more before moving a step back and taking in the whole shape of her. "See you in a bit."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Nothing much to say on this except that the next chapter should be interesting ;).

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Guest:** Glad that the chapter made your day! You're right. If Blaise and Hermione's meeting was any indication, her and Draco meeting again must've been an interesting one as well. It'll be discussed in a later chapter :)

 **Professor Malfoy:** Lol, definite denial. If only Charlie really wasn't gone. War sucks.

 **Guest2:** Here's more! Hope that you liked it :)


	15. Plan B(laise)

**Author's note #1: Trigger warning ahead.**

* * *

Draco only had his instincts to rely on when it came to Rabastan. He was untraceable without the bugging, and so the blond went to the one place where the odds were higher of Rabastan's appearance.

Marcus' house.

Marcus and Theo hadn't been friends _per se_ , but had become close enough after a Deatheater-related incident that left Marcus topside instead of being six-feet-under. Having saved his life, Marcus had promised Theo any favor that he wanted, but the latter hadn't cashed it in until Fleur and her daughter. The nature of the men's association wasn't well-known, and even if it had been it wouldn't have caused a problem. Marcus was innocuous. He had only been in the Deatheater's crosshairs because he had been attempting to conceal a witch they'd been hunting. However, that was _before_ he aided a Deatheater traitor and smuggled out a member of the resistance.

Draco found himself outside of where Marcus lived. It was a two-level house in a residential area just outside of London and relatively well-maintained considering its location. It was breeding ground for Snatchers with nothing better to do -causing fights and random acts of violence in hopes to impress Voldemort enough so that they could be promoted to Deatheaters.

Ridiculous.

Speaking of Snatchers, Draco's apparating had attracted the ears of a small group who had been defacing a nearby home. He hid behind some shrubbery and nonverablly sent a spell far in the opposite direction. He didn't know what it hit, but it made a large enough explosive sound that the Snatchers ran off to investigate. Draco peeked above the shrubs and once he saw that it was clear, he darted off towards the house. All doubts about where Rabastan might be was tossed to the wind when he saw that the front door was ajar. Draco swallowed, held his wand tightly, and slipped himself through the crack. It was wide enough for a man to get through and so no chances of creaking doors to alert anyone inside.

If Rabastan was on the first floor near the door things could've turned ugly _really_ fast. Luckily he wasn't. In fact it seemed empty. Granted the home was pretty large with nooks everywhere so it seemed.

Draco raised his wand and whispered, "Homenum Revelio,"

The spell lit the tip of his wand he held his breath. Yes, someone was here. One major disadvantage of the spell, however, was that it could never tell you _how many_ people were there with you. Maybe it was just Rabastan or Marcus. Maybe it was them both. Maybe there were other Deatheaters here. There were just...too many maybes.

A thud reverberated upstairs and Draco looked up at the ceiling. Unfortunately, Draco could recognize the sound of a body falling with ease. He cast a Silencing Charm on his feet and quickly made his way upstairs. When he got to the landing he immediately retreated and pressed his back onto the wall. He had seen Marcus, bruised and bloodied, in the middle of the hallway and crawling on his hands and knees. A grunt came next. Draco took a quick peek to see Rabastan giving him a good kick to the stomach.

"You may not have any information on the mudblood," Rabastan said. "But the veela can do. _Someone_ knows something, and I'll figure it out."

"I...told you…" Marcus panted. "I don't know anything about Theo's veela."

Rabastan kicked him again, this time closer to the chest. Draco felt his own chest hurt from the force of it. It was a miracle Marcus was still able to breathe.

"Somehow I don't believe you." Rabastan sneered. "And I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

Draco watched as Marcus continued crawling, slowly, but still managing to get out of the hallway and into an open room. Rabastan followed, grinning evilly and broadcasting his ill-kempt teeth. No, Rabastan wasn't alone, but Marcus could be considered a friend. Besides, if he did nothing, Marcus was either going to be dead or damaged beyond repair.

Draco stepped into the hall and took out his coin. "Alright, Hermione. Get ready."

He wrote out the message "Send It" and was about let his message go through when Draco froze. He felt the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up and swiftly turned around with his wand raised.

Marcus Flint and all of his grotesqueness was behind him, wand up as well as a curious brow.

Graham Montague was here too, back from an extended mission down south. _Perfect._

And although it was as stealthy as he could make it, Draco was sure that they both had saw him slip his coin, his message unsent, into his pocket.

"I thought the Dark Lord sent you away?" Flint questioned. Draco stood his ground.

"Found out a bit of information on Granger that I thought Rabastan would want to know." Draco lied.

Flint chuckled. "How generous of you."

"What's with the coin?" Montague asked.

 _Damn._

Draco shrugged. "I like money. What of it?"

Montague smiled. "You always talk to your money?"

The blond scowled. "Come off it and just tell me where Rabastan is."

"Lower your wand first." Montague ordered. Then he reached out his hand his free hand, his other holding his wand at his side. "And let's have a look at that coin while we're at it."

Draco tightened the hold on his wand. " _Why?_ "

"Well, according to Flint, you're not even supposed to be here. You've got a pretty good grip on that coin inside your pocket, and between you and me -well, us three," he smiled. "We heard what you said."

Draco aimed his spell at Flint since his wand was poised and ready. Montague aimed his at Draco before the blond could redirect his arm. Whatever spell was used -whatever _curse_ -it was bloody sinister. Despite it hitting his chest, the curse started at his feet and worked its way up. The pain… The pain was equal to that of knives getting buried deep under his flesh and moving up. Draco couldn't help it. He screamed as he dropped to his knees. It didn't stop the harsh glare he shot at Montague as he dug his hand into Draco's pocket and pulled out the coin. The man even had the audacity to give a light toss into the air.

"What the devil is going on out there?" Rabastan called as he stepped out into the hall.

"Draco crashed the party." Flint smirked as said party-crasher fell to his side as the pain reached his chest and neck.

Rabastan walked over and looked down at him in confusion. "This isn't Germany, boy. What are you doing here?"

"Whatever it is, it has to do with this." Montague said as he gave the coin to Rabastan. The older man took it and craned his eyes as he inspected it further.

"'Send...It.'" He repeated. "And? So it's defaced currency. What of it?"

Montague rolled his eyes. He had as much patience for Rabastan as Draco did.

"There's a Protean Charm on it. I should know. Confiscated a few of these myself back at Hogwarts." Montague looked down at Draco and grinned. "I guess being a part of the Inquisitorial Squad taught us both a few tricks, eh?"

"He said Granger's name while holding it." Flint piled on. Draco, the pain subsiding but the inability to move not so much, felt his heart sink at his words. Rabastan stared between the coin and Draco repeatedly before settling his eyes on Montague.

"You know how to work the thing?"

"That I do."

Rabastan handed it over. "Then get it working. Let's see who's supposed to be sending what."

* * *

Hermione was standing behind her kitchen counter with her wand clutched in a death grip in her hand. She got Draco's message just a moment ago and sent her Patronus with her address. Rabastan would be here soon. Draco would be along before him. He'd come and they'd raise their wands together. They hadn't discussed _how_ they would do it, and so she took the moment to mull it over. Maybe they'd both aim their wands at his heart. No, too easy. One at the chest and the other at his stomach? But did she really want to torture him? She had admitted to Draco that she'd never killed anyone. She had never tortured anyone either. Merlin, would she hesitate? Could she really do it?

 _And where was Draco?_

Seconds had turned into a minute. Hermione's heart was already racing and now it was at dangerous levels. He was supposed have come to her as soon as his message had sent. What...what was happening?

Hermione swallowed. She stared at the middle of her living room waiting for that familiar head of blond hair and that determined attitude mingled with the adoration that he felt for her. Her heart jumped when the sound of apparation filled it, but then several red flags shot up when she saw two Deatheaters who were neither the man she hated nor the love of her life.

"You live well for someone on the run." Montague praised. "Do all resistance members live like you do?"

Hermione's body was shaking, but she kept a firm grasp on her wand. Her eyes flickered between Montague and Flint, both with their wands at their sides. She hated this. She hated how calm they seemed to be. She hated that their eyes were roaming over her from the waist up. She hated that she _knew_ it would be utter hell trying to take them both on. What was worse was hating that she didn't know what had happened to Draco or where he was.

"Incarcerous!" Flint shouted and Hermione dropped to the floor. She scuttled her way to the edge of her counter and raised her wand over her head.

"Avada Kedavra!" Hermione cried. The curse sounded foreign on her lips. Evil. It broke down her insides during its casting and even afterwards. Although, that feeling could have also been attributed to the dread she felt as she watched Montague's wand movements.

Anti-apparation wards.

Her curse had been headed towards Flint, but it hit the wall as he moved towards the kitchen and around the counter. Hermione got up from the floor, shielding herself from yet another _Incarcerous_ and redirecting it back at Flint. She smiled briefly when he was enveloped in the cords and then turned her sights on Montague. She gasped when she realized that Montague was within an arm's reach of her. He reached out for her -possibly to grab a fistful of her hair -but Hermione jammed her wand into his throat.

"Avada-"

"Remota Voce ," Montague said calmly.

Hermione was surprised to find her voice gone. It wasn't until she tried to speak again that she felt the tip of Montague's wand move against her throat.

"If you manage to kill me non-verbally I'll be quite impressed." He smiled. "Imperio,"

The curse fell over Hermione like a wave of relief although on the inside she was a mess. She was stripped of her will so easily and it made her squirm when he ordered her to hand over her wand.

"You won't be needing this anymore."

Hermione watched in horror when Montague snapped her wand in half and tossed it into a corner. He then looked over at Flint who had been fussing on the floor the moment he had been bounded by Hermione's spell.

"Get me out of this already!" Flint grumbled.

"Alright, alright. And you," he added to Hermione. "Don't move."

Hermione had no choice but to obey although she fought like hell to counter her obedience. She could hear Montague releasing Flint from her spell. Now it was two-on-one again and she was panicking. She was fearful for her life, but no more so than for Draco's since he was _still_ nowhere to be seen.

The Deatheaters were in front of her again and the look in their eyes was unmistakable. She wanted to grimace, to glare, to do _something_ to show her distaste for them, but the curse made her stoic. She felt her skin itch as Montague traced his finger along the side of her face, down her neck, and just above the small space between her breasts.

"I was going to keep you under the curse and silent." He said. He took a moment to pull down the collar of her shirt a bit and admired the view. "But Flint reminded me that it's always a bit more fun when the other party is...active."

Montague removed the curse and Hermione attempted to lunge to her left, but Flint had been ready and grabbed her around the waist. Her grumblings, shouts, and frustration had been silent, but the Silencing Spell was soon removed too and the room became filled with her voice.

"Let go of me!" Hermione yelled. "Damn it, you bastards! Let GO!"

"Merlin, she's wily." Flint commented.

Hermione was thrashing as much as she could and trying to scratch his face, but it was hard. Harder still when Montague turned around and grabbed her by the ankles. One man holding her below, the other with his arms locking her upper body in his grasp, Hermione was swaying between them and unable to make use of her best fighting weapons.

"Bedroom or floor?" Montague questioned. Flint thought for a split second before grinning broadly.

"Floor,"

"Ah, my favorite place."

"Then you can get the first crack at her." Flint offered. "You're at her legs now anyway."

Hermione's eyes went wide and she thrashed even further. She twisted her body enough that she felt one of Montague's hands slip. It was enough. She kicked her leg as high and as hard as she could and felt nothing but triumph when he heel collided with his face. He yelled angrily and staggered back, dropping her legs entirely. That made more upper body weight for Flint to carry and he faltered as the lower half of her fell to the floor, thus dropping her completely.

It was a hard hit when the rest of her landed on the floor, but Hermione didn't care. She rolled over onto her stomach and scrambled to get to her feet. Instead she made it to her hands and knees before a hand grabbed her by the calf. Another hand grasped her head and thrust it forward to the floor. That was even a harder hit and Hermione was still for a moment.

She blinked and the world was fuzzy. The world was spinning too. She groaned when she felt her body turn back over by a force that wasn't her own and spied the bleary, yet angry, image of Montague hovering over her.

"You're going to pay for that, mudblood." He spat at her. Although disoriented, Hermione's sense of touch was two-fold. And she felt dead inside as Flint pinned her arms above her head. Montague had sat himself on her thighs -perhaps to keep her from moving, but more frighteningly for better... _access._ Hermione grit her teeth hard enough to break them when she felt him caress her neck with gentle rolls of his thumbs.

"You are _definitely_ going pay. And in the worst way. First by me," he let his hands slip down to her breasts. "And then by Flint," he let his hands find their way under her shirt and Hermione instantly began to silently cry. "And then by Rabastan -as soon as he's done turning over that traitor of a blond to the Dark Lord."

Hermione was going to be sick. Or maybe she'd die. Considering her current predicament and what she now knew was happening to Draco, perhaps it would be both.

* * *

Draco was in a physical torment, but _nothing_ compared to his emotional hell. He had to lay on the floor and watch Hermione's Patronus float in and give away her location. He had to lay there and listen to Rabastan tell Montague and Flint to "keep her entertained" until he arrived. Draco wasn't an idiot. He knew what that meant. It made him want to vomit -and he did after Rabastan had apparated them to Malfoy Manor.

Rabastan kicked him in the stomach like he'd done Marcus and laughed. Draco coughed from the kick and from the remaining bits of bile still lodged in his throat. He spit out what he could and then craned his neck in the direction of voices.

"What is the meaning of this?" Voldemort demanded. He then looked down at Draco, bound by the hands behind his back and laying next to his own upchuck. "You, young Draco, are not supposed to be here."

"There's a good reason for that, my lord." Rabastan said proudly. "He's a traitor. Knew where the mudblood was all the time, he did."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Did he? And what makes you think that, Rabastan?"

"He had this on him." Rabastan handed over the Protean-charmed coin. "It was a message to the mudblood, programed to give her location. Don't know why, but a connection to her when she should've been dead is a bit suspicious."

"Indeed," Voldemort said as he eyed the coin. Then he took out his wand and pointed it at Draco. The blond expected to be Crucioed, but instead he was lifted off the ground and levitated over to him so that they were now eye-level. "I know that you are an Occlumens. Quite a successful one. However, _everyone_ has a breaking point, Draco. Rest assured that I'll find yours and see what you don't want me to."

Draco wasn't a fool to refute it. Voldemort was right. It didn't matter how proficient one was at Occlumency. Break down the person, one broke down the walls. He only hoped that he could hold up his mental blocks for as long as he could. In the meantime, as Voldemort kept up his levitation and made him to follow the ruthless man with Rabastan in tow, Draco made eye-contact with Blaise who had been struck silent at seeing him.

"You are dismissed, Zabini." Voldemort said without looking at him. "But don't stray too far."

The modest threat was well-heeded, but Blaise wasn't paying attention. His and Draco's locked gaze had spoken volumes. Blaise slowly backed away and then walked, soon running out of the Manor and disapparating once outside of its wards. He was surprised to find himself at a distance from Hermione's hideaway, and only when he tried again did he realize that there must've been anti-apparation wards in place. He quickened his steps and ran up to the small house, using his wand to unlock the front door before he had even made it there.

Now, there were worse things than murder. There was torture, for one. It was the equivalent of playing with your food in Blaise's book and absolutely abhorrent. However, there was something else above torture that grated on his nerves and took the number one spot on his list: rape. Having met some fierce women in his time, he wouldn't go as far as saying they were delicate creatures. Regardless, his pureblood, high socialite background gave him a view of women that barred him from such degrading acts.

With that in mind, it made perfect sense that upon entering Hermione's cottage and spotting the start of the heinous scene that Blaise's blood instantly boiled. The fact that it was Draco's witch -the woman under whose care was now _his_ considering Draco's current situation -caused him to go blind with fury.

Blaise's wand moved faster than his own thoughts and aimed at Flint who was holding onto Hermione's arms. "Avada Kedavra,"

Flint dropped back. Montague, who had been in the midst of pulling his pants and underwear further down, turned around to see who had barged in on his fun. He didn't get a good look though. Blaise had crossed the room in a flash and yanked on a patch of his hair, pressing the tip of his wand into his throat.

"If you don't pull your pants up Montague I'll cut it off."

"What the hell are you doing?"

Blaise moved his wand to Montague's exposed member and with a swift flick slashed it –not deep enough for complete removal, but good enough to bleed. Montague screamed.

"I wasn't kidding." Blaise snarled.

Montague fumbled with his clothes and was unconscious with a Stunning Spell before he could properly finish. Blaise looked over at Hermione, but quickly turned away. He had no right to see her half-exposed. Not to mention that the sight was retch-worthy.

"Are you alright?" Blaise asked without looking at her as he wiped and warped Montague's memory. By all rights he should've killed him too, but if this was to be staged appropriately only one of them should be dead. No one would believe that Hermione had killed them both. "Granger, I asked if you were alright."

When he didn't hear anything he finally turned to look at her. Although fully dressed now, she was still on the floor and staring vacantly at Montague's unconscious form. Blaise walked over and snapped his fingers in her face. "Granger. Are you in there? _Granger? Granger,_ _ **snap out of it!**_ "

At the yell Hermione blinked up at him. "What has he done to Draco?"

Blaise swallowed. The question felt like lead in his chest and he didn't answer her. Instead he headed towards the front door, urging her to follow him. "We need to go. Where's your wand?"

"Broken. Zabini, what's You-Know-Who doing to Draco."

Still he didn't answer. He summoned the two halves of Hermione's wand and pocketed the pieces. He was at the front door now, but Hermione wouldn't move. Her hands were balled into fists and her stare was hard and scared at the same time.

"Blaise," she said, and the use of his first name caught him completely off-guard. "What's he doing to him? Please, tell me."

Blaise swallowed deeply, knowing full-well how much his news would hurt the witch. With a sigh he finally answered her. "Breaking him." He held out his hand for her to take and pleaded. "Can we go now?"

Hermione closed her eyes as her heart sank. She opened them reluctantly and finally gave Blaise her hand. He led her outside and once beyond the anti-apparation wards they disapparated. The brunette felt very much numb when they ended up in a dark alley. She didn't even realize when Blaise had stripped himself of his cloak and put it on her, making sure the hood was up and hiding her face. They went into an apartment building and headed into an elevator that took them to the very top. There was only one door and beyond it was a very large, well-decorated apartment. It was his, seeing as there were many photographs of himself and other people -his family perhaps. Hermione would have appreciated the man's style and attention to detail if she wasn't distraught.

"You said break him." Hermione said softly as she stiffly settled onto the couch. "Break him how?"

"In any way possible so that Legilimency can work." Blaise replied. He had headed straight towards his minibar and shot back two glasses of firewhiskey. It burned like hell, but it was needed.

"And if it does?"

" _When_ it does… It'll be Theo all over again."

Now, Blaise didn't love the woman. He barely even liked her, but even _his_ heart ached when he saw how quickly and how much her face fell.

"What are you going to do about it?" Hermione asked distantly.

Blaise narrowed his eyes at her, his third glass of the harsh liquor in his hand. "What do you mean?"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What do _you_ mean? You have to save him."

"Draco's a dead man." Blaise said gravely as he shook his head. "There is no saving him."

"Are you serious?" She fumed as she rose to her feet. "Draco's your best friend!"

"So was Theo!" Blaise shouted at her. "And Draco and I stood by like good little soldiers while we watched the Dark Lord torture and then kill him for _his_ own treason."

"And knowing what happened to him you're just going to let Draco die?" Hermione said in outrage. "Some friend you are! If you're not going to do anything, then I-"

"You _what?_ " He egged her on. Blaise walked away from his minibar and stood right in front of her, face to face -nose to nose even. "What are you, a mudblood wanted dead or _dead_ , going to do? Storm Malfoy Manor and take on dozens of Deatheaters to save him?"

Hermione was seething. She lifted her chin defiantly and answered, "If that's what I have to do, then yes!"

"That's suicide!"

"I love him!"

That silenced him. Blaise took a step back from her, completely at a loss of what to say next. He knew that she must've loved him, but to actually hear her say it? That was something else entirely.

"I love him, Blaise." Hermione continued. "It's suicide, yes, but I'll die without him anyway. What would be the difference otherwise?"

Blaise stared at her in disbelief. "…You would really risk yourself for someone who's made it his business to hurt you for most of your life?"

"He's loved me for the latter part of my life. That's all that matters to me."

Blaise sighed. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he grabbed his left arm -right over his Dark Mark.

Hermione's face was in alarm. "Draco,"

"No," Blaise shook his head. "He wouldn't break that quickly. The Dark Lord he… He just wants me. I've got to go."

"Wait, you can't!"

"You don't say 'no' to the Dark Lord, Granger." Blaise grumbled. "I'm going. You'll be safe here since Draco's the only person who has direct access to my apartment."

Blaise began to walk away from her, but Hermione stomped her foot like a child and immediately drew his attention. He was flabbergasted when he realized that she had a wand in her hand. _His_ wand.

"How in Merlin's name did you-?"

"You really shouldn't stand so close to a person and not pay attention to their hands." Hermione replied smugly as she raised it. "As I said, you're not going anywhere. Not yet."

* * *

 **Author's note #2:** Things...just...got..serious. Hope that you liked the chapter :)

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Dindore** : Nearing CaBW levels of anxiety... Oh my gosh, that is biggest compliment ever! That story is in my top 5 favorites, so thank you!

 **Guest** : Hope that this chapter met your expectations!

 **Megafan1** : First and foremost, to have plowed through Happily Divorced in one sitting is amazing. It's pretty lengthy, so thank you! I'm so glad that you like my stories. This one _definitely_ has its twisted moments. Can't deny that! Never written anything quite like this before, so it's quite the change :)


	16. Breaking Point

There wasn't much that rattled Blaise, but this? This was it. There were a million things that could go wrong. A million things unaccounted for. And one big obstacle that he might or might not make through. If he did, then there was still yet another one that determined how much bloodshed would be happening during "Mission: Rescue Draco." It all depended on a certain brunette's skill as a witch and her ability to be persuasive -or threaten to cut off a testicle or two.

Blaise sighed as he made it to Malfoy Manor and kept replaying the last ten minutes in his head:

 _Blaise stared at Hermione with cold eyes as he stretched out his hand. "Give me my wand,_ _ **right now.**_ "

" _No." Hermione replied, his wand still trained on him. "I can't let you leave here without protecting your mind."_

 _Blaise's brow furrowed as his anger at her waned. "What?"_

" _You're not an Occlumens." She stated. "Draco told me. You-Know-Who will probably search your mind and not only will he confirm what he thinks he knows about Draco, he'll know about you too and then you'll_ _ **both**_ _be dead. We can't let that happen."_

" _What do you propose we do then? I can't become an Occlumens just like that."_

" _I know. That's why I need to set up blocks in your mind." Hermione said as she took a few steps closer. "I need to keep You-Know-Who from seeing what he shouldn't."_

 _Blaise felt his mouth go slack, but he didn't let it drop. He felt his arm burn even more and knew that Voldemort was growing impatient with its intensity._

" _Alright," he nodded. "Hurry up."_

 _Hermione raised his wand and pressed the tip to his forehead as he closed his eyes. "This should allow You-Know-Who to still see your thoughts, but evade the ones I barricade. Afterwards he shouldn't be suspicious of you."_

" _Should?" Blaise repeated as he reopened his eyes. "Shouldn't? Granger, have you ever put up blocks in a person's mind before?"_

" _No," she replied without hesitation. Blaise took a step back and put his hand on her wrist to lower the wooden vessel._

" _The hell, woman, are you crazy? You could fry my brain to bits!"_

" _I don't have a choice!" Hermione hissed at him. "Without you I won't be able to get into the Manor and Draco will be dead. You_ _ **have**_ _to stay alive."_

 _Blaise snorted. "And here I thought you cared about my life. Obviously not."_

 _Guilt filled her instantly, but she couldn't bring herself to feel_ _ **that**_ _bad about it. Because he was right in a way. Draco's life certainly mattered to her more._

" _I'm desperate." She said eventually._

" _And you're willing to use anyone and anything to get what you want." Blaise surmised. "Is that it?"_

" _Yes."_

 _Blaise chuckled grimly and motioned for her to raise his wand again. "That's utterly selfish of you, Granger. Who knew you'd be a woman after my own heart?"_

 _Hermione scowled. "Just shut up before I fry your brain to bits_ _ **on purpose.**_ "

Considering that Blaise wasn't a drooling mess on the floor somewhere he figured that the witch's spell worked. He only hoped that Voldemort would be properly fooled by it.

* * *

Hermione had asked Blaise for one more favor before he left and, yes, they had argued over it, but in the end she had won. By default, she imagined. She had seen Blaise's face twist with agony and knew that the Dark Mark had to have been agonizing. He needed to go before the Mark ended up killing him (something that she didn't know it could actually do), and so he relented with obvious dismay.

Months ago the Order had separated under strict terms. One of them was to make sure that "key members" of the group were safeguarded by Secret Keepers. Andromeda had been hers. Professor McGonagall was Ron's and Aberforth was Harry's. "Separate, but not far" was their motto, and they all made a vow. No, it wasn't an Unforgivable Vow, but a promise -a wizard oath, if you will - that if any of them needed help, they would come together.

This was one of those times.

Hermione's request had been for Blaise to let down his wards so that she could send for members of the Order. Because she didn't know where some of them were, she made sure to send in her Patronus _clear_ _instructions_ that if they couldn't make it to the address given without splinching, then to stay where they were. Another wave of guilt troubled her with that. She had said it, not because of _their_ welfare, but because no injured person would be of use to her when storming Malfoy Manor.

Hermione sighed as she paced Blaise's apartment, her replacement wand lightly tapping her thigh as she went. Blaise had an assortment of spare wands in his home although "spare" was a belittling term considering how he got them. He hadn't told her where they came from when she asked, although a glimmer of shame graced his features for a fraction of a second. He just said to take one, and then he left in a hurry.

As she opened the container Blaise had directed her to and she saw familiar wands, Hermione had to bite back the bile that had wanted to spill from her mouth.

Luna's.

Dean's.

 _Charlie's._

There were others that she didn't know who they belonged to, but still made her stomach churn aggressively with the implications. Blaise Zabini was a _vicious_ murderer. Looking at the physical representation of his body count was evidence of that. And yet that same man had stormed her cottage and kept her from being violated. Well, violated any further. No, there hadn't been any contact between her and Montague except for his hands on the outside of her body, but she still felt dirty. Terribly so.

Hermione shivered. There was a sudden _crack!_ in the air and she turned abruptly with her new wand in hand. She found herself face-to-face with another wand, but she wasn't threatened by it. Instead she let her eyes travel up to the owner's arm, neck, and finally his face so that she could see those green eyes that she didn't realize how much she had missed until now.

Hermione choked back a sob. "You look terrible."

Harry was hardly a rock with his own emotions, nor was she wrong about the assessment. No, there were no battle scars, but he did look a little worse for wear. Stress could do that to a person.

"You look...actually...not half bad." Harry joked, and then he pulled her into a crushing hug that Hermione returned with just as much intensity, if not more. They stayed like that for Merlin knew how long. Hermione wished it could've been for a bit longer - _anything_ to prolong the explanation to Harry's muffled question.

Hermione pulled away and rubbed at her arm anxiously. "I got attacked at my safe house."

" _Attacked?_ " Harry repeated in alarm. He immediately began probing her, looking for injuries, but Hermione subdued him. "How? You have a Secret Keeper! You-"

"Andromeda's dead, Harry." She told him sadly and did her best to not look at him to witness the steady progression of his grief. "I was saved from my attackers and brought here for safe keeping."

"Exactly where is 'here?'" He asked as he glanced around. "No one in the Order has anything like this."

Hermione could feel it. Harry was pecking at the wall and behind that wall was an avalanche of information that, yes, he needed to hear, but it was nothing that he was ready for. His body stiffened as he eyed photographs on the walls.

"Is that _Zabini-?_ "

"Harry," she said tentatively. "Before I tell you what's happening you need to understand something. I-"

The sound of apparation sounded in the room again and, ever conscious that this was war, Hermione and Harry raised their wands in the sound's direction.

"Ginny," Hermione breathed before running over to the redhead. The women hugged amidst words of delight that the other was alright and stepping back from each other, still in one another's arms, to make sure they were _physically_ okay. Harry came over during the interaction, hugging Ginny as well, although it was obvious the tension between him and her was still ever present.

" _This_ is the safe house the Order gave you?" Ginny exclaimed with wide-eyes. "Merlin…"

"This isn't her safe house." Harry interjected. "Hermione just told me she was attacked and brought here."

Ginny's mouth dropped in shock, but it was quickly replaced by confusion. "Brought here by who?"

Hermione took a deep breath. _Here it goes…_ "Blaise Zabini. Now, before you go crazy-"

But it was too late. Ginny and Harry were on the alert and had their wands raised and aimed as they spread themselves around the living room.

"Is he coming back anytime soon?" Harry asked.

Ginny scoffed. "Does it matter? We should just get her out of here. We can go to your safe house."

Hermione shook her head. "No! We don't have to do that! I-"

More than one string of apparation came around this time and it was Ron and Neville. Out of the two of them Hermione was more stunned to see Neville seeing as he was supposed to be in Germany. He could've splinched himself!

"What's going on?" Neville questioned as he raised his hands up as a sign that he was _not_ the enemy. Ron had immediately done the same when he realized that his sister's wand was in his face.

"Zabini kidnapped Hermione." Harry replied. Hermione could've died right then. Both Neville and Ron had joined the offensive team and it was ridiculous. The brunette did the only thing that she _could_ do to properly garner their attention and raised her wand over her head. Blaise would probably kill her for damaging his ceiling, but he'd get over it. The shots she fired into the air were like an explosive -deafening to the ears and caused the ceiling to crack and split.

"Will you all just listen to me!?" Hermione shouted. "Blaise didn't _kidnap_ me. I didn't call you all here to rescue me, but to help me rescue _someone._ "

That silenced everyone for the moment and Hermione sighed.

"I need you all to hear me out, alright? And I _swear_ to you that I'm not Imperiused in any way. What I have to say is the truth and you just...you have to help me."

"Hermione, you're scaring us." Ron said with a frown as he lowered his wand. "What is it?"

Hermione took a deep breath and just ran with it: "I've been sleeping with Draco Malfoy for the past three months; You-Know-Who has found out; Draco's been taken to him and now I need your help to save him."

Hermione felt her heart thudding dangerously across her chest. She had said all of that for everyone to hear, but her eyes had been solely trained on Ginny. Out of everyone, _she_ would be the one who remotely understood. Draco did save her life once after all.

"Zabini's done something to her." Neville announced.

Harry nodded. "We need to get her out of here. Hermione," he addressed as he drew near. "Come on, let's-"

"Harry Potter, you take one more step towards me and I'll curse you." Hermione said sternly. Harry stopped immediately while the others eyed her warily -all but Ginny.

"Hermione," Ron said to her. "Listen to what you're saying."

"No, _you_ listen to what _I'm_ saying. Andromeda told Draco where I was months ago. He was sent to kill me, but he didn't. We...we got close, okay? So close in fact that if anything happens to him I… I don't know what I'd do."

The stunned silence that filled the room was staggering. Choking even. Harry, Ron, and Neville were all _highly_ concerned and even began whispering among themselves as though trying to figure out what to do.

Ginny cleared her throat. "He's at Malfoy Manor, I take it?"

The men sharply looked up at her while Hermione answered, "Yes."

Ginny nodded. "How many Deatheaters will we have to go through do you think?"

"Ginny," Harry said with a furrowed brow. "What are you doing?"

"Figuring out how we can do this without dying." Ginny replied sharply.

"But she's gone mental!" Ron shouted. "Did you hear what she just said?!"

"I did." Ginny replied with a lift of her chin. "And it's obvious that you've never truly loved someone. When you do you'll do _anything_ to protect them."

Hermione smiled at Ginny's words and then frowned at Harry's flinching. "Well, it seems like Ginny's on my side. What about the rest of you?"

There was more silence. Harry and Neville tied for first place at being at a loss. Ron was still shaking his head, refusing to believe any of it. Out of nowhere he raised his wand at Hermione.

"Incarcerous,"

Hermione blocked it. Her mouth had fallen open at that, but before she could say anything, Ron was trying to bind her again.

"Ron, what are you doing?!" Harry shouted at him, but he wasn't paying attention.

"It's not her!" Ron shouted back. "Can't you see that?"

Hermione blocked his spell again as she ran around the couch. "Ron stop it!" She ducked behind the couch as he tried to stun her instead. That had been the final straw. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Ron seized up in an instant and he fell back. It was regrettable that behind him was a glass coffee table. He fell too quickly to properly cushion him and she flinched when he collided with it and it shattered beneath him. Gasps were heard to her right and she saw Harry's and Neville's wands trained on her.

Hermione took a deep breath as she stared at her friends. "So, you're going to attack me too?"

Harry and Neville shared quick glances with each other, unsure of what to do. Ginny sighed.

"Use your common sense." Ginny told them both as she went over to Ron. She cleared away the glass with her wand and healed any cuts he had gotten. "If Zabini had kidnapped her she'd be locked away in some dungeon, not lounging in a living room.

"Thank you, Ginny." Hermione replied as she walked over to the petrified Ron. "I'll unfreeze him now."

"No." Ginny said quickly. She looked down at her brother and added, "Not until we're sure that Ron won't attack you again. _Will you?_ "

The only thing uninhibited by Hermione's spell were Ron's eyes. It was clear that the jury was out on that and he was still poised to take her down. Hermione frowned and kneeled beside him.

"Ron, I know you think I'm crazy. And fine, I get it. What I'm telling you isn't exactly normal. But like it or not I'm storming Malfoy Manor with or without your support." She glanced at Ginny and then turned to Harry and Neville. "With or without _any_ of your support."

"You'd die." Harry said from where he stood, his heartrate having accelerated with her words. "There's no questioning it. You'll be dead the moment you're spotted."

"Maybe, maybe not." Hermione shrugged solemnly. "But think of all the times you should've died. Isn't possible that I'll be lucky too?"

"This is war, Hermione." Harry countered. "You can't afford to think like that!"

"What about all the times _you've_ thought like that?" Hermione snapped as she stood. "Need I remind you that when you thought Sirius was in danger you were ready to run off to London _alone_ to save him."

Harry sputtered. "That… That was different, Hermione."

" _How_ was that different?!"

"He wasn't a Deatheater!"

"But you loved him!"

Harry staggered where he stood. Hermione watched as his eyes gravitated to Ron and she knew why. She wouldn't look at him though. She couldn't afford to deal with that right now.

"You loved him, Harry." Hermione said again. "And I love Draco. No Imperius Curse. No love potion. I don't have time to go into any more details than I already have. I just need to know whether you're in or out."

"…Say that we are," Neville spoke up. "How are we even supposed to get into Malfoy Manor? It's a fortress. _And_ You-Know-Who's there."

Hermione said nothing for a moment. Instead she dug out her coin from her pocket and held it in her hand. "That's what I'm waiting for Blaise to tell me."

* * *

Blaise wasn't sure what he would be walking into when he finally made it to Voldemort's chambers. He didn't know if he wanted Draco to be there or not. Seeing Theo getting tortured to death was bad enough. But Draco too? Blaise could take a lot of things, but that…that just might be what broke him beyond repair.

However, when he didn't see Draco Blaise began to regret it. Was he dead already? Was he on death's door? Was he still in his right mind? There were just too many questions. One question -a careless thought really -had been answered for him when he realized who else was in Voldemort's presence.

"My lord," Blaise bowed once he saw him. As per usual, he looked none too pleased.

"What kept you?" Voldemort questioned testily.

"My apologies. After seeing Draco being brought in I…indulged in a vice."

Rabastan scoffed from where he stood. "You didn't know that your _best mate_ was a traitor, did you?"

Blaise turned cold eyes on him. "No, I didn't." He then let his gaze gravitate to Montague. The man looked to be in obvious pain. Not to mention that he had his hands held quite protectively over his nether bits.

"What's up with you?"

Montague all but screamed, "The mudblood mutilated me!"

Blaise's brow slowly rose. "I think you need to define 'mutilate.' You look fine to me."

The man grimaced horribly. "Not anywhere you can see…the stupid bint."

A smirk crawled onto Blaise's face. "Really? How…tragic."

Montague was offended, but before he could make a big show of anything Voldemort commanded attention of everyone with a clearing of his throat and turned to Blaise.

"You seem oddly…aware of the current predicament." Voldemort said as he neared him. Blaise stood his ground.

"There's only one mudblood that we Deatheaters speak of the most." Blaise answered. "Considering that Draco has been turned in, there's only one, unfortunately logical, explanation."

Voldemort, at least three inches taller than him, stared down at him. Blaise didn't dare look away. It would only signify guilt if he did.

"And I'm to believe you that you knew nothing of Draco's treachery? Nor its depth?"

Blaise's brow furrowed as he feigned ignorance. "'It's depth?' Exactly how much has Draco done?"

Voldemort smiled. "That so happens to be _exactly_ what I intend to find out. I relish the thought of tormenting him further. However, I need him in reasonable health. It makes for the best screams, after all."

Blaise felt his stomach turn. The best screams? _The best screams?_ Sick bastard. Theo had elicited the worst screams Blaise had ever heard in his life. Even now he had to swallow a stiff drink (or five) to properly sleep at night.

"Forgive me for asking, my lord." Blaise said gently. "But how do you propose to get any information out of him if you _don't_ torture him?"

Again Voldemort smiled, but this time he fingered his wand delicately between his fingers as he said, "That is what _you_ are for."

Blaise's face fell as binds wrapped around him and he dropped to his knees. Rabastan looked smug and Montague, although still suffering, seemed to be taking great pleasure at the turn of events.

"But first," Voldemort said as he pressed his wand onto Blaise's forehead. "Let's see what you have to tell me."

Blaise had never prayed before in his life, but now he was doing it like a pro. He closed his eyes and could feel Voldemort probing his mind, searching through every memory in recent days, weeks, and even months. Anything to prove that he had known about Draco and his traitorous ways. It felt like a millennia before Voldemort finally stopped. Blaise looked up at him and he seemed terribly upset to have not found anything.

"There's nothing?" Rabastan questioned.

Voldemort straightened. "Nothing. Which means either the mudblood had help from elsewhere or," he turned and sneered at Rabastan and Montague. "You are incapable of capturing one little witch."

Montague stammered. "B-but my lord,-"

"Be quiet!" Voldemort ordered. He then turned back to Blaise who was still in binds on his knees.

"I've been found trustworthy, my lord." Blaise said. "May I be released now?"

"Not yet," Voldemort replied as he flicked his wand at him. Blaise was levitated off the ground and soon he was following him out of the room. "You and I still have work to do."

* * *

Draco was bleeding from the mouth. No matter how much he spat more still filled it. It was then that he wondered if he was suffering any internal bleeding. His chest hurt from one too many Cruciatus Curses. His head was in a terrible amount of pain from where Rabastan kicked him, and his blurred vision was a second consequence to that.

He had to give credit to where it was due. In the face of having yet another traitor on his hands, Voldemort had been oddly calm. That is until Rabastan came barging in and informed him that Flint was dead, Montague injured, and Hermione gone. Draco had been so relieved by the news and so _ecstatic_ that a Deatheater had been killed in the process that he couldn't help it.

He smiled. _And then he laughed._

Draco laughed hard and loud until he slowed to mere chuckles and turned his eyes onto Rabastan. "You'll be next. _I promise._ "

Needless to say, Voldemort had been livid. That's when he had unleashed his wand on him to the brink of unconsciousness. What made it excruciating was the fact that he was still bound and with every spasm Draco made it was against ropes holding him tight, rubbing his wrists raw as he twisted and writhed. He didn't fear death. Not right at that moment anyway. Voldemort would want his death to be public, just like Theo's.

And so he pictured Hermione somewhere safe, away from these people and the harm they would do to her. In all honesty, it was only half-effective in keeping his mind off the pain. Aside from giving him a peace of mind, it also made his chest ache because he knew that the moment had come. His death was the closest it had ever been and that meant his and Hermione's shot at a fairytale life was gone. No secret hideaway. No shielding themselves from the world that wanted to kill them. None of it. He was moments from being beyond the veil and Hermione would soon be alone. How would she take it? _Would_ she be able to take it? The way she looked every time he left her cottage was engraved into his memory. That was at the mere thought of him never coming back. And now that he won't? It hurt more than any Cruciatus Curse, and it gave him great pleasure to know that he was suffering from the thought of Hermione losing him than Voldemort trying to break him.

The door to the room that he was locked in suddenly opened. Draco had expected another round of torture when he saw Voldemort, but his eyes widened and his vision cleared when he saw Blaise being levitated in after him.

Voldemort was more than smug. "I see that I have captured your attention."

"What are you doing with him?" Draco immediately questioned. Voldemort sighed contentedly.

"Wonderful that you should ask." He replied with a grin. "You see, the mudblood has escaped, but I refuse to let her get far. _You_ , my dear, Draco, will tell me where she's gone."

Draco swallowed. "I don't know where she is."

Voldemort chuckled. "I doubt that very much." He then turned to Blaise and flicked his wand in the direction of the Italian's hands. Blaise screamed in alarm and Draco's heart stopped when his wrists were slit. "You were saying, Draco?"

"I don't know!" Draco screamed. "I swear that I don't! Leave Blaise alone!"

Voldemort tutted. "That is _not_ the answer I wanted to hear." He twisted his wand and the cuts got deeper, causing Blaise to scream even further and lock eyes with Draco who was pleading more than he ever had in his life.

"Leave him alone, damn it!" Draco yelled. "I already said that I don't know!"

"Then venture a guess." Voldemort advised as he stood closer to Blaise. Draco's best friend was eyeing his wrists with an expression of horror that was rarely ever seen. He was bleeding out. _Profusely._ Draco was watching Blaise die before his eyes and succumb to fears and emotions he was sure he hadn't felt in years.

"Germany!" Draco lied blatantly. "If Granger went anywhere it would be Germany!"

"Well, well, well, aren't you chatty all of a sudden?" Voldemort mocked. He raised the tip of his wand to Blaise's throat. "Now, why should I believe you other than wanting to save Zabini's life?" He moved his wand slowly, no more than two centimeters, but Draco could still see a trickle of blood appear. Any longer and any deeper and Blaise's throat would be cut.

"She'd go to Germany because that was where my next task was supposed to be." Draco said quickly, his eyes solely on Blaise. "Another Order member is there. A friend of hers. it would be the perfect place."

Voldemort looked triumphant. He leaned towards Blaise and said, "What do you think? Is he telling the truth?"

Blaise was too paralyzed to say anything noteworthy. Instead he shallowly nodded. Voldemort traded his gaze between him and Draco before eventually conceding.

"Run along then, Zabini." Voldemort said nonchalantly as he undid Blaise's binds. "Clean yourself up. The execution shall be in less than an hour."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Not all breaking points are physical! Let's hope Hermione and the others can come through! *fingers crossed*

-WP

Replies to Guests:

 **Professor Malfoy:** I think it was/is fair enough for you to worry! And as I said in my AN, not all torture methods are necessarily on the body. Hermione and Blaise will _always_ be Draco's weakest points.

 **Dindore:** The anxiety levels reached! Oh my! Best..compliment...ever. :D

 **Megafan1:** Hahaha. I'm glad it was worth it! Blaise was the savior of the day, that's for sure! I had anxiety just writing the chapter, so I can imagine how you felt! Every single Deatheater deserves to rot. *sigh*


	17. Into the Snakepit

Blaise rushed out of the room so fast anyone who might have seen him would think he was a ghost. He had gotten taunts from Rabastan and laughs from Montague, but he didn't care. He found a secluded corner, backed onto the wall, and slid down. He kept staring at his wrists, still bleeding, and watching the red mar his skin and damage his clothes.

Despite being a well-accomplished killer, Blaise didn't like large amounts of blood. It brought him to a place he didn't like and memories that he kept locked away. Draco knew. He knew the reason why and Blaise was sure that the fear on his face had confirmed everything. That his paralysis had _nothing_ to do with dying at the hands of Voldemort.

Blaise took out his wand and aimed it at his left wrist. He was trying to mend it. To put bandages on. _Something_. However, no matter how hard he tried his hand was shaking too much to properly accomplish anything.

"Merlin!" Goyle exclaimed as he rounded the corner and spotted him. "What the hell happened to you?"

Blaise looked up and damn near begged. "Fix it." He pleaded as he dropped his wand and raised his wrists to him. "Just… _Fix it._ "

"Yeah, yeah, of course."

Goyle bent over and healed Blaise's wrists as best he could. The bleeding stopped. The pain subsided enough to be bearable. The skin was partially healed and bandages to cover them. He cleaned up the spilled blood last and Blaise closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the wall. He could finally breathe. He could finally-

Blaise snapped his eyes open and demanded, "What are you doing here?"

Goyle smiled. "I got lucky. I spotted the Weasley girl in London. I lost her though, but wanted to give _some_ sort of news to the Dark Lord. The fact that she's here might give me an edge to capture her, you know?"

Blaise snorted. "Edge my arse." He gathered his wand and rose to his feet. "So, what did the Dark Lord say when you told him?"

"Haven't seen him yet. I was just on the way."

"Oh," Blaise replied simply. He glanced with his eyes left and right before aiming his wand at Goyle's head. "Obliviate,"

Goyle's mind was wiped before he could even comprehend what was going to happen to him. Then Blaise Imperiused him and forced him to leave. Once Goyle was gone, Blaise found a quiet place and hid, taking out his coin from his pocket.

 _Execution. Less than an hour._ He wrote. Two seconds later he added, _Calvary?_

Hermione's message came quickly and Blaise was honestly surprised. She had only included initials, but they weren't hard to figure out. All offense to Longbottom intended, the odds were high that he was going to die on this little expedition.

 _Entry?_ Hermione asked. Yes, Blaise was the one who was supposed to get them into the Manor, wasn't he? The Manor was well-protected with centuries worth of magic all tied to the name of Malfoy. Voldemort had added his own layers of protection as well and Blaise would have to circumvent them both for Hermione and her lot. Harder than it seemed, really. Especially because Blaise wasn't going to touch the wards at all.

This was one of the few times where Draco's paranoia worked to his advantage. The blond's permanent room at the Leaky Cauldron provided the perfect way of entry seeing as the old tavern's fireplace could make it here. It was a public access Floo. Considering the current circumstances, it was probably unwise to have not blocked Malfoy Manor from such access, but who would be stupid enough to go to the Dark Lord's command center?

A mudblood in love certainly fit that description. However, if Hermione and her lot tried to come through without a Dark Mark on their arms, they'd be instantly bound and petrified. That's why Blaise sent her a gift.

* * *

Ron was unfrozen, brooding in corner while Harry and Neville were speaking silently to him. Hermione was sitting on the couch, waiting for Blaise to contact her. With every second that ticked by it terrorized her. Her mind was her own worst enemy and she kept thinking the worse. She and Blaise should've set up time parameters. How long should she wait before hearing from him? What if, in the time that she waited, Draco was dead or nearly there?

"If everything goes well," Ginny tentatively asked, breaking Hermione away from her thoughts. "What'll happen after we make our escape? Where were you planning on taking him?"

"Draco needs to be as far away from here as possible." Hermione answered her. "I was thinking one of our regroup bases. The one in Belgium. It's far enough away, yet chances of splinching are lower than if we went to Dublin, for instance."

"I hope you're prepared for a serious interrogation from McGonagall then."

Hermione sighed. No, not at all. It would be much easier to go to Dublin and face Seamus than having to defend herself against her old professor.

"Do I have a choice?" Hermione said with a slump in her shoulders. "With her? With the rest of the Order? Ron thinks I'm being controlled, Harry and Neville keep giving me that awkward side-eye, and you… You're the only person on my side. And I know I shouldn't be thinking it, but I keep wondering what this would be like if Draco hadn't stopped Goyle from killing you."

Ginny was surprised. "Malfoy told you that he…-?" She stopped talking. That damn Lip-Locker Curse was still on her. Hermione didn't notice the pause and she nodded.

"He did. Maybe you can help me with McGonagall? Tell her what he did for you?"

Ginny frowned. "Hermione, Malfoy,-"

Hermione suddenly rose to her feet. All eyes were on her now as she read and sent messages with her coin. After about three minutes of going back and forward, she pocketed her coin and faced her rescue team.

"Draco's going to be executed in less than an hour. We can get in using the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron."

Neville furrowed his brows. "The Floo? That's it? Hermione, it can't be that easy."

"It is considering Blaise sent a little help our way in the form one Imperiused Gregory Goyle." Hermione smiled. "We can't Floo there without him unless we want to get captured, but we have to go _now_. There aren't very many Deatheaters at Malfoy Manor, but the rest will be the closer to Draco's execution time. We need to be in and out before then and reconvene in Belgium."

"Belgium?" Ron scoffed. "You want to take Malfoy to Belgium? _To our_ _base?_ "

Hermione narrowed her eyes. " _Yes_ , I do. And while I understand that you have a problem, I'm not going to waste time arguing with you over it, nor over this final point that I have to say." She turned made sure that everyone had her attention and then added, "Draco's safety is clear. However, in addition to him, none of you are to hurt Blaise either. Not seriously, anyway."

"Are you kidding me?!" Ron shouted, but Hermione ignored him. Instead she headed towards the front door and gestured for everyone to follow.

"Let's go."

* * *

There was a huge potential for things to go wrong here. The Leaky Cauldron was a public place. People trafficked the fireplaces of the venue frequently. It went without saying that seeing five prominent members of the resistance coming out of a fireplace would draw some attention. Luckily, the fireplaces were located in the back where visibility was low. However, it was late afternoon, early evening, still fairly bright, and they had been spotted by a wizard who was apparently on his way home. The man's eyes went wide, his mouth dropping in preparation to gasp, but Harry silenced him with his wand. Ginny did the final touches with a Stunning Spell and Ron and Neville carted the man out of the way.

Teamwork at its finest.

Hermione peered around the corner from the Floo stations and let her eyes drift around the dusty pub. Goyle was where Blaise said he would be: the closest table to to the Floos. However, that was still quite a noticeable distance. From behind her she could hear her friends stunning people every couple of seconds.

"Hermione," Neville hissed. "The body count is racking up back here!"

"Leave a fireplace clear." Hermione ordered. "This is going to happen very fast."

Ron eyed her wearily before stunning another patron. " _What_ is going to happen very fast?"

Hermione didn't answer him. It was Gringotts all over again with determination at the helm no matter how crazy the idea.

She walked out into the open. _Clear into the open_ and straight up to Goyle. There were gasps, knocked over chairs, and broken glasses and plates. Blaise had Imperiused him, and if he was smart, he would've done it in a way that would make Goyle listen to her. And so Hermione swiftly jammed the tip of her wand in Goyle's throat and ordered, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

"Get up and follow me or you're dead."

Goyle moved from his seat with very little resistance. Thank Merlin. But of course, _nothing_ ever went that easy. Nott Sr. and William Greengrass had walked into the pub, completely flabbergasted at what they were witnessing. Nott Sr. whipped his wand out in an instant.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione yanked herself and Goyle out of the way of the curse, not to mention the bartender who dropped behind his counter. Nott Sr. tried again, but Ginny jumped out, prepared with a Shield Charm with the hopes that it would redirect at the man.

"Get to the fireplace!" Ginny shouted. The shout was necessary seeing as the pub was now in an uproar of people running for their life. Her curse didn't hit Nott Sr., but was redirected yet again at one of the patrons -unlucky sod.

"Don't let them get away!" Greengrass yelled, pushing people who were running in his direction so that he could get to the fireplaces. Ginny helped Hermione tug Goyle along towards the fireplaces, nearly tripping over the stunned bodies Ron, Harry, and Neville had been busy piling.

"Get in!" Hermione ordered everyone. Six people. One fireplace. "Snug" wasn't the right word, but fortunately the Leaky Cauldron's fireplaces were larger than the normal and so everyone managed to pile in with "comfortable" discomfort.

With Floo Powder in hand Hermione prepared to drop it just when Nott Sr. and Greengrass managed to make it to the fireplaces.

"Malfoy Manor!"

The Floo Powder dropped. Greengrass aimed his wand at the fireplace itself while Nott Sr. aimed his at the group. Two sets of spells released as the Floo flames engulfed them and they all cried out.

"My arm!" Ron yelled as they were whisked away. Hermione was concentrating on the fact that as the flames whisked them away, they also singed the skin -something that they didn't normally do. Greengrass' spell had damaged the fireplace, not to mention damaged the Floo. The fire had started out green, but changed to a roaring orange-red as they tumbled out of another fireplace and onto the pristine floor of Malfoy Manor.

They all scuttled away from each other, patting out individual patches of fire that had clung to their clothes.

"What the hell?"

Hermione sneered at seeing Rabastan. She couldn't even describe her hatred of Montague as he sauntered out -in pain so it seemed.

Neville raised his wand, "Incendia Maxima!"

The jet of fire that fled Neville's wand was impressive, and it caused Rabastan and Montague to duck for cover. Everyone got up from the floor and scattered after that, especially when the fireplace behind them and came alive.

"Where do you think _you're_ going?" Nott Sr. growled as he grabbed Ron by the back of the shirt. He was pulled back, thrown onto the ground, but he kicked wildly and managed to get Nott Sr. in the shin.

Hermione didn't stay to see what would happen to him. She needed to find Draco. Malfoy Manor was huge and she hadn't a single clue where to begin. Not to mention that Voldemort, who was somewhere in this place, hadn't yet joined the fight. The noise would attract him soon enough and they needed to be out of there before that happened. And so, she started her frantic search by stealing herself away from the fight between her friends, Rabastan, Montague, Nott Sr., and Greengrass, across the massive foyer and down an unknown hall. It wasn't far into her run when she felt a pair of hands reach out for her -one across her stomach and the other over her mouth.

"Wrong way, Granger." Blaise whispered in her ear, but he didn't let her go. Instead he dragged her back the way they came, Hermione struggling as they went. He tugged her back to the foyer where the scene had looked incredibly intense. While Goyle was unconscious everyone was paired off with someone else. Neville had just careened onto the hard fireplace, possibly cracking a rib. Ron had just blocked a curse from Nott Sr. and he looked to be in agony. His arm that he had complained about seemed unusable, resting limp against his side. Ginny and Harry were fighting back to back with Montague and Rabastan respectively.

"He's down that hall." Blaise hissed, as he gestured through the masses. "Third door on your right. Now," he said as he loosened his hold on her. "Make it look good, Granger."

Hermione made good on that and elbowed Blaise in the face. He yelled in response, effectively letting go and she ran for it, dodging spells and curses to make it to the hall.

"Get her!" Montague yelled.

"No!" Ginny shouted. She could see someone leaving the room and heading after Hermione. Ginny didn't have time to be precise. She conjured binds around Montague and then began to run, but stopped suddenly when Blaise apparated in front of her.

Blaise grabbed her by the shoulders and grinned. "The lovesick brunette can fend for herself."

Ginny was furious. She stomped on Blaise's foot, slapped him, and then ran for it. She made it past the archway and into the hall, but Hermione was nowhere in sight. Her heart was racing. _Where was she?_ Ginny moved to try the first door she found, but instead found her arm twisted behind her back, her body pressed against the wall, and a Deatheater in her ear.

"I _said_ that she could handle it." Blaise told her.

Ginny growled in frustration as she fought to get free of him. "Damn it! Let go, you son of a bitch!"

Blaise smiled and then he tutted. "Oh me, oh my, such language." He leaned a little closer to the side of her face, his lips nearly brushing her cheek as he kept her arm held tightly and body pressed tightly. "Do you kiss people with that mouth?"

Ginny tried to hit him with her head, but only mildly succeeded. The chuckle he gave in response made her blood boil. "I can't believe Hermione told us not to kill you."

Blaise was glad his shocked expression didn't make it to his face. Instead he turned his attention to two things: The sound of labored grunts to his left and the sound of an angry Voldemort to his right.

* * *

First door.

Second door.

 _Third door._

Hermione didn't even try the handle. She flared her wand at it and yelled, "Bombarda!"

The door blew apart and debris went everywhere so that Hermione had to cover her face to make sure that she didn't get hurt. She took a step forward into the room, but soon cried aloud in pain when she felt someone grab a firstful of her hair and slam her head into the wall. She instantly slumped against it and slid down to her knees. She was disoriented and she felt blood trickling down her forehead. Definitely not good.

"I'm going to enjoy this." Nott Sr. said haughtily as Hermione turned so her back was against the wall. She heard rather than saw him raise his wand. She couldn't trust her vision to do precise spellcasting, but she could still get in the vicinity.

And so Hermione aimed her wand to where the majority of the rubble went and aimed it in Nott Sr.'s general direction. His scream was all the confirmation that she had needed and then she scrambled to her feet and into the room. However bad her sight had been before it was all clear now.

And she hated what she saw.

Draco was bound in a corner of the empty room. She wasn't very close to him and a part of her was terrified to get nearer. From where she stood she could see it all. The blood from his nose and mouth. The residual muscle spasms. Slashes through his clothes as though someone with talons had had a go at him. The lacerations where the binds grated against his skin.

Draco was a mess. What was worse was that he had yet to notice that she was in the room.

Hermione hastened to him, dropping her wand to her side, and knelt in front of him. "Draco? Draco, look at me."

Hermione had used her wand to cut through the binds. The way he fell forward into her arms made it seem as though the binds were the only things keeping him together. Her chest ached. She put her hands on his face and forced his eyes to be eye level with hers.

"Draco." She said again. "We have to go now. Come on." She took one of his arms and swung it over her shoulder. "Come on, love. We have to leave before You-Know-Who-"

"Well then," came Nott Sr.'s voice. Hermione, still in the process of getting a half-conscious Draco to his feet, looked up at him. "What do we have here?"

Hermione didn't answer him (not that she would have). Instead she kept her eyes on his wand while hers was a stretch away. Nott Sr. analyzed them both. The way Draco leaned on her. The way she supported him. The obvious _worry_ that laced her features, not fear.

Nott Sr. sneered. "The mudblood's fallen for a pureblood, eh?" He raised his wand. "I think I'll kill him first."

Hermione's heart dropped to her stomach. In that moment she let Draco go, regretting that he fell hard onto his side, but reached for her wand. She nearly ripped her arm out of its socket with how fast she had whirled it and her whole body around.

"Avada Kedavra!"

It was different this time, Hermione concluded. However foreign the curse had felt on her lips the first time she had used it, that feeling was gone. All she had cared about in that moment was keeping Draco safe. About getting rid of the threat. About killing for him _._ About killing _for them._ And although she had just watched Nott Sr. drop to the floor , the surprise of death on his face, it didn't feel like enough. She slowly made her way to her feet and at the side of his body. With her foot she pushed him over so that he was on his back. In that moment Hermione had never felt so angry. A simple Killing Curse wasn't enough. These damn Deatheaters had turned her world and that of her friends' upside down. They deserved more than the easy way out.

Hermione gripped her wand, prepared to lash out, but then stopped when she felt a hand on hers. She gasped and turned around to see Draco (wobbly) on his feet.

"Put your energy somewhere else." Draco told her before succumbing to a coughing fit and spitting up blood. Hermione immediately grabbed for his arm and put it over her shoulders again.

"We need to get you out of here."

Draco was smiling to himself as his witch hefted him along. Strange, this hallucination. Since Voldemort had left him alone he'd been at the mercy of several mental scenarios bent on breaking him. He experienced one where Hermione had been tortured relentlessly under Voldemort's hand. Another where Blaise had been the torturer. Another where _he_ had been the wand-wielder -that had hurt him the most. And now this one. So odd that Voldemort would give him one where Hermione was here to save him. A new and effective tactic Draco had to admit. Get his hopes up only to realize that he was still bound and bleeding internally. And the evil bastard even had her acting just like she normally would in the face of her rage.

"What are you doing to Ginny?" Hermione demanded.

 _Ginny?_

"Nothing," came Blaise's cheeky reply.

 _Blaise?_

"Nothing my arse, now _get off!_ Hermione, is Malfoy okay?"

"Hardly. He keeps coughing up blood and dazing off. He's not even here right now."

"Worry about him _after_ you make an impossible escape." Blaise told her. "Voldemort's out there."

Draco blinked. Hermione's hold on him had intensified and he could feel, not only her touch, but her intense fear. Her fear for _his_ _life_. Draco suddenly twisted in her grasp and placed his hands on the sides of her face.

"You're real?"

Hermione's face faltered. "Of...of course I'm real."

Draco swallowed deeply, rolling his thumbs gently across her cheeks. She was real? She certainly felt real. She smelled real too. And her lips, the way they felt as he kissed her briefly, they felt real. "You came for me?" His heart swelled and sank at the same time when Hermione nodded, then he turned to Blaise. "Blaise, I'm going to kill you."

"Not if Voldemort kills you first." Blaise said. He was peaking out into the foyer, soon joined by the others and watching the scene. Other Deatheaters were here now. There weren't many, but enough so that Ron and Neville were clearly outnumbered. They were in trouble too, on the ground surrounded by a group of six or seven who were having their fun at taking turns cursing them both. It was more than difficult to watch.

And then there was Harry, somehow not yet dead or seriously injured as Voldemort chased him with magic all around the foyer.

"What are we going to do?" Ginny said frantically as she surveyed the mess. Hermione didn't know. She just... _she didn't know._ She had gotten to Draco just like she wanted, but how the hell were they supposed to get out of here?"

"The ceiling," Draco said as he looked up. "It's damaged. Break the ceiling and they'll scatter. It'll also damage the anti-apparation wards."

"But there's still Ron and Neville," Hermione said as she watched helplessly at their torture. "Harry can dodge the debris, but they can't. They'll need a shield!"

Blaise suddenly had an idea, and he utterly hated himself for it.

"Throw me."

Hermione's eyes widened. "What?"

"Throw me, damn it!"

Ginny raised her wand. "Not a problem. Expulso!"

Blaise was thrown into the air and he landed hard onto his shoulder and then back. It felt broken or at the very least dislocated, but he had been thrown back enough to be right near the idiotic duo. He masked his wand movements as he tried to get up and as he did, the ceiling gave an inauspicious moan. The curses to his right stopped. They all looked up. Blaise was the first to cast a Shield Charm on himself as the ceiling began to cave.

Hermione, Draco, and Ginny hauled their arses towards the middle of the foyer while the Deatheaters scattered. They dodged falling ceiling chunks and eventually gathered Neville's and Ron's bodies to themselves.

"HARRY!" Hermione shouted.

Harry looked in the direction of her shout and then he ran for it. He hopped over a horde of rubble, and slammed onto his stomach, narrowly missing Voldemort's Killing Curse as it hit the ground next to him and rebounded. Harry's hand had barely reached the others, but it was enough. Voldemort's frustration was evident in his hideous screech, but before he could properly aim and kill them all, they were gone in one swift _crack!_ of apparation.

* * *

 **Author's note:** They BARELY made it out. Thank Merlin! Off to Belgium where Draco will be surrounded by resistance members. Should be fun?

Also, thanks for bearing with me for the wait! I may or may not have mentioned it, but I'm in school (and it's currently kicking my butt lol). So for future reference know that this is never abandoned. I'm just drowning in coursework :)

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Dindore:** Hahaha, I hope you weren't in public to attract attention. I'm really glad that you liked the chapter. Those petty jealousies will definitely come into play, but like you mentioned, momentum had to keep going! :)


	18. The Patriarch of Friendships

Everyone landed with a splash in the Ghent River. Hermione was trying desperately to keep Draco afloat. With all of his injuries it was difficult for him to keep himself from submerging under the water. Needless to say, it was worse off for Ron and Neville who were still both unconscious. Harry and Ginny were doing their best to make sure neither of them drowned.

"Why are we,-?" Draco sputtered. "In the middle of nowhere?"

Hermione smiled as she urged him to swim as best he could after her. If he couldn't see the large house that sat along the river then that meant McGonagall's charms were still in full effect. However, that also meant that he wouldn't be able to enter it unless granted permission by the owner. The moment she had decided to take Draco to Belgium Hermione had known getting him past the wards, and thus the base's doors, would be a hassle. Even more so when her old transfiguration professor finally showed her face.

"Merlin!" McGonagall exclaimed as she came out, wand drawn and ready to attack who had come within feet of the Order's base. "What was the last thing I said to all of you before we separated?"

"Stay safe." Harry replied. "You-Know-Who can't keep us apart forever."

McGonagall seemed on the verge of tears, however, that wasn't in her repertoire. Instead she took a deep breath and lowered her wand. "Come, we must you inside. Is Weasley and Longbottom alright? We must see to their injuries. We-"

McGonagall stopped dead. She had finally noticed the blond head of hair that was among her favorite students. The face that had just showed concern was now filled with rage and caution. She aimed her wand.

Hermione's heart quickened as she pushed herself in front of Draco. "No! Stop! Don't hurt him!"

McGonagall stuttered. "Don't...? Miss Granger, move away from him!"

"No!" Hermione said even more strongly. The look on McGonagall's face said that she was about to let off a round of curses anyway. Draco tried to put her behind him instead, but she wouldn't budge. That and he was too weak to truly try. Even his vision was starting to fail. Before Harry or Ginny could vouch for Hermione's sanity, someone else had stepped in and put a hand on McGonagall's arm.

"Listen to 'er."

Fleur stared out into the water, looking at no one but Hermione and Draco. The brunette and the veela locked eyes, both sharing an understanding that no one could possibly comprehend but each other. And McGonagall too, so it seemed. She stared between the women briefly before closing her eyes and seeming to be either cursing or counting backwards from ten. Once she had finished the old professor regretfully addressed Draco.

"Draco Malfoy, you have my permission to enter the base." McGonagall said grudgingly. "Miss Granger, after everyone is settled you and I will talk. _Alone._ "

* * *

Hermione loved school. Muggle, wizarding, it didn't matter. An education was an education and there was always such a thrill to sit in front of a professor to be filled with knowledge.

However, having just spent the past twenty minutes playing "Q & A" with Professor McGonagall had wiped away any pleasant memories she had of being a student. Having the woman's harsh gaze on her and crisp tone used with her made Hermione squirm in her seat like she was being scolded. The old woman was exasperated by her. That much was sure.

With a deep sigh and pinching the bridge of her nose, McGonagall refocused her attention on the young woman. "I suppose we can skip my lecture on how your actions were _completely_ out of line from the moment Mr. Malfoy entered your life?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, we can."

"Good. Because it was absolutely _horrendous_ what you've done. Of course not more so than putting the lives of your friends at risk only moments ago! You could've killed yourself. You could've killed _them_!"

"I thought we were going to skip the lecture, Professor." Hermione scowled. McGonagall sat more erect in her seat at that, clearly not appreciating the tone. Hermione, honestly, couldn't have cared less.

"If I didn't believe your story before, I sure would have now." McGonagall sniffed. "Mr. Malfoy's rubbed off you. I'm afraid to find out just how much more."

Hermione sighed and ran a tired hand over her face. "Are we done here? I really need to check on Draco and see how he's doing."

McGonagall cocked a brow in the air. "Not Mr. Weasley? Mr. Longbottom? If I recall they arrived here _unconscious_."

"Harry and Ginny are taking care of them. Draco has no one."

"He has Fleur. Seeing as her story is just as shocking as yours, she was the most qualified, and only, option for the moment. Mr. Malfoy will be fine."

* * *

Draco had collapsed onto a mattress the moment he had been brought inside. The energy he had exerted in running and trying not to drown when they landed in the river had taken a toll on him. Between feeling pain in every part of his body, hacking up blood every time he coughed, and bleeding from various cuts, in short he was an utter mess. He didn't sleep though. Instead he drifted in and out of consciousness and waking to a new ache.

On this last go around Draco realized that there was someone in his room. He felt a hand press against his forehead and neck, and then they cooled considerably. A Cooling Charm. Did he have a fever? Yes, that was all he needed. To have internal injuries, but instead die of infection.

"Hermione," Draco croaked out. He tried reaching for her with his hand, but caught nothing but air.

"She is still talking with Professeur McGonagall." Someone answered him. "It 'as been almost an hour, so she should be back soon."

The voice wasn't altogether unfamiliar, although he couldn't say that he had heard it recently. The only reason Draco could fathom a guess as to who it belonged to was because of the subtle hints of a French accent. But he was still confused. She couldn't possibly be here, could she?

Draco forced his eyes open and worked overtime to put his vision to work. The shadowy form that had been cropping up into his awareness all this time did, indeed, belong to a woman, but not to his witch. Theo's veela was in the room, wand in hand, and looking over various potion bottles set on a bureau.

"What are you doing here?" Draco questioned. His throat felt raw, but he fought through it _and_ the pain as he adjusted himself to sit up in bed. Fleur hastily ran over to him.

"Lay down." Fleur insisted as she moved to push him back. Draco grabbed her wrist before her hand could make contact with him and glared.

" _What_ _the hell_ are you doing here?" He repeated. Fleur gulped, her wrist twisting in his grip as she tried to get him to let go. Draco applied more pressure and she whimpered. "Answer the question!"

"Let me go!"

"No! Theo risked his life for you, and you're _here!_ He died for you and you… You didn't even go anywhere!"

Tears flooded Fleur's eyes as he spoke and she struggled to peel Draco's hand away from her. She failed at every turn, but he did eventually let go. Threw her off, more like it, and Fleur fell back onto her bottom as she massaged her wrist.

"Theo is dead?" Fleur asked sadly, her tears falling freely down her cheeks. Draco huffed.

"Yes. And he died for nothing, apparently."

Fleur's voice caught in her throat. She hastily got up from the floor and fled the bedroom, bumping into Hermione just outside of the doorway, but not stopping. The brunette stared after her in concern before popping into Draco's room and throwing a thumb back the way she entered.

"What happened?"

Draco fell back onto the bed, groaned, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. "She found out Theo's dead."

Hermione's gasped. "Oh no… She must be devastated."

"She deserves to be."

"Draco! How can you say that?"

"How can I not?" Draco countered angrily. "Hermione, Theo is _dead_ because of her. He gave up _everything_ so that she could be safe, and what did she do? She stayed!"

"...Oh," Hermione mused, a gentle nod accompanying it. "I see. I suppose I should've left you in Malfoy Manor then."

Draco blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Well...yes, I heard you, but that has _nothing_ to do with Fleur."

"It has everything to do with her." Hermione countered. She took a deep breath and sat beside him. Draco closed his eyes as she ran her hands through his hair and she spoke again. "You, Blaise, and I had an arrangement, didn't we? That he would keep me safe in case something ever happened to you? Well, something did. And I forced Blaise to get me to you because there was no way in hell that I was going to live without you. Theo and Fleur loved each other. If she felt even an ounce of what I feel for you, then I understand why she stayed. You should understand too."

Draco immediately frowned. He opened his eyes and looked up at the witch - _his witch_ -by his side. He would've done it too. Had she been captured he would've plowed through anyone who had gotten in his way to get to her. Yes, he understood. And now he felt terrible because Fleur had just found out her actions were for naught. And in a cruel way at that.

"Go to sleep." Hermione told him. "I'll go talk to Fleur before she does something crazy like throw herself into the river."

Draco stared at her blankly. "Can she swim?"

"No. She's developed a bit of a phobia ever since the TriWizard Tournament."

"Go then." He encouraged. "Last thing any of us needs is to bear witness to another dead body."

Hermione nodded. It was her mission to avoid that as best as possible. With a sigh she got up and left the room, anxiety rising as she wondered if Fleur really did take a stroll out to the Ghent River. It's what she would want to do if their roles were reversed. Luckily that's not where she found her. Fleur was in a bedroom at the far end of an adjacent hall. Her sobs were loud enough to attract attention, and perhaps if Ron and Neville and their self-appointed Healers weren't on the other side of the house they would have.

Hermione gently eased herself through the door and hesitantly approached her.

"Fleur?"

"...Malfoy is right." Fleur replied with body-wracking sobs. "Theo died for nothing."

"No, he didn't. He-"

" _Yes,_ he did." She whipped herself around and Hermione her heart broke at how red Fleur's eyes were. "I should 'ave stayed with Victoire. At least when Theo died I would 'ave been where he wanted me to be."

Hermione tilted her head with furrowed brows. "Victoire isn't here?"

"She is with a distant cousin of mine in Australia." Fleur answered. "Theo 'ad a friend of his take us wherever I wanted us to go. And so we went, but I 'ad no intentions of staying. I Imperiused Marcus to take me 'ere, erased his memory, and then sent him away. Only now to find out that Theo is dead." More tears began to fall down Fleur's cheeks and she stood crying, silently, before flopping herself down on the bed. "I left my daughter to chase a dead man, 'Ermione. What kind of mother does that?"

"A selfish one," Hermione said immediately. "But what person in love isn't? You do the most selfish things when you are."

Fleur hiccuped before forcing a grin onto her face. "Like leading your friends into certain death to save someone they 'ate?"

Hermione grinned back, albeit grimly. "Exactly like that,"

Silence fell for a moment before Fleur did something unexpected: she laughed. It wasn't a particularly strong one, maybe more of a deep, uncontrollable chuckle.

"We're terrible people."

Hermione shook her head. "Not to the men who love us."

"Lov _ed_ ," Fleur corrected, and then she succumbed to an avalanche of tears just as she had been before.

* * *

Blaise got home shortly after midnight. He had already been in a foul mood from taking a massive hit from Voldemort's rage, but now he was in an even worse off disposition. That damn mudblood had left his apartment in total disarray. His coffee table was smashed, for starters. The floor was littered with plaster and dust which puzzled him. It wasn't until he looked up to see the enormous crack in the ceiling that he understood why.

"Damn it, Granger." Blaise grumbled. He used his wand to fix the mess before succumbing to his need to vomit in the bathroom. It was a mixture of the last thing he ate and blood. What a _lovely_ combination.

And to his chagrin, Blaise knew that he would be taking the brunt of Voldemort's anger more often in the nearby future all because he had morals concerning friendship. He was a selfish bastard in most aspects of his life, but _no_ , he had to be a right saint when it came to his friends.

Before dismissing his batch Deatheaters who were drowning in the stench of failure, Voldemort had been adamant about one thing: "Draco and that mudblood will be executed if it is the _last_ thing I do."

Those words had shaken Blaise to the core. The last person Voldemort had been so focused on killing was Potter, and everyone knew how hard he tried with that one. _Still_ tried. What did that mean for Draco then? He was in the resistance's hands now, but how long would that last? What was worse was that the blond no longer had access to any of Voldemort's plans. He was in the dark, and the worst thing a person could be during a war was to be ignorant of your enemy. That was why Blaise, the Patriarch of Friendships, had offered Voldemort a proposition. One, the more he thought about it, Blaise was certain would be the death of him.

" _I'd like to be the one to go after Ginny Weasley."_

 _Blaise's statement had stopped Voldemort in his tracks. Still spasming from his torture and swallowing his own blood so he didn't spit at his lord's feet, Blaise's stance was strong._

" _Oh? And why would you want such a task?"_

" _She squared off with me tonight." Blaise answered. "Considering how this evening went, she gained the upper hand and it doesn't sit well with me. Besides, if she's found, so will the others be."_

" _Including your friend." Voldemort added with a sneer. "Why are you so eager to turn on him? What's in it for you?"_

" _That wasn't the Draco I knew. I know he faces severe punishment from you, but I hope that by killing those mudbloods and blood traitors I can unbrainwash him."_

 _A sadistic smirk fell across Voldemort's face. "How touching. You wish to save him."_

 _Blaise swallowed more blood. "I do."_

 _Voldemort began to chuckle. And then he laughed loud enough for the sound to bounce off the walls. "Unfortunately for you, Zabini, I plan to kill young Draco._ _ **Nothing**_ _will save him from me."_

 _Blaise frowned. "I understand. However, despite it all I still wish to target Ginny Weasley. If I can't save my friend, I can at the very least kill all those who took him from me."_

" _A Deatheater with a vendetta," Voldemort smiled. "So very poetic. But forgive me if I am…_ _ **hesitant**_ _about letting you take on such a task. Draco may come across your path and you may save him anyway. Not to mention that both he and the late Theodore Nott have both turned out to be traitors. Why should I believe that you are not like them? That you won't betray me like they have?"_

" _You have searched my mind, my lord. You know firsthand that I knew nothing of their antics. That said, they had their reasons for not trusting me with their treachery." He said with bitterness that couldn't be faked. "They knew that I wouldn't have approved. They knew that my thought process or morals was_ _ **nothing**_ _like theirs. You can trust me. This task will prove it to you."_

 _Voldemort paused. Blaise's heart was beating unnaturally the longer the quiet kept on. After more agonizing seconds passed, Voldemort finally spoke._

" _I suppose that out of a handful of Deatheaters, my lost loyal aside, you have been quite fruitful. Between you and Montague,-"_

" _A mudblood flayed Montague into Morgana." Blaise snapped. Voldemort's eyes had narrowed at the interruption, but this was something that he was_ _ **not**_ _going to apologize for. "And he bitched about it instead of taking a little pain. In light of that, my lord,_ _ **I**_ _am the best."_

 _Another pause._

" _Indeed," Voldemort conceded. "Very well, Zabini. You may embark on your task. However," he said as he reached out his hand as well as his wand. "There is a vow to be made."_

 _Had Blaise been any other complexion, he would've been paler than a ghost. He raised his hand with purpose, praying to Merlin that Voldemort couldn't feel it shaking as their hands met in a firm grip._

" _You will do your utmost to find Ginny Weasley."_

" _I will."_

 _A golden cord of the Unbreakable Vow erupted from Voldemort's wand and latched itself onto their conjoined hands._

" _Should you find where the rest of the Order members are, you will tell me."_

 _Blaise felt his heart sink. "I will."_

" _And should you find Draco Malfoy in the process," Voldemort smiled wickedly. "You will kill him."_

 _Blaise wished he was dead._

" _I will."_

* * *

 **Author's note:** Oh! Oh! Oh! Blaise is in trouble. Draco's in trouble. A crap-load of people are just in trouble aren't they? I hadn't originally planned this, and now my little evil author heart is saying, "Oh dear, look at what you've done."

 **MASSIVE NEWS!** I just found out that this story was nominated for the #AlwaysDramione17 Spring Dramione Fanfiction Awards! It's in the "Best Dystopian" category and I am just so thrilled. Whether this wins or not, I'm glad that people are enjoying it! **AND!** My other story, Happily Divorced, was also nominated for the the "Best Fluff/Humour" category. If you're interested, please go out and vote! The link is below, but take out the "*" sign so the link can work.

h*ttps*:/goo*.gl*/for*ms/bt78*ahz09*1psP*Bdw2

Happy reading everyone! And happy Memorial Day weekend for those in the US!

-WP


	19. An Unwilling Arrangement

After doing her best to console Fleur, Hermione went back to Draco. She found him asleep, which was good, but also feverish, which was not. She applied as many Cooling Charms as she could think of and frowned before leaving him be. If his fever didn't go down soon then it would be a problem. His internal injuries, so Fleur had told her, weren't nearly as catastrophic as she had thought. They would heal over time, but he needed to rest.

With her lover under the care of dreams (hopefully good ones), Hermione could finally turn her attention to her friends. By the time she reached Ron's room first Harry was coming out of it.

"How did your talk with McGonagall go?"

Hermione shrugged. "As well as could be expected. She let Draco into the base. That has to mean something, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "It means that she pitied you. Not to mention that you wouldn't have left Malfoy's side if she said no."

Hermione bit the inside of her jaw. She wasn't sure about the first part of Harry's assessment, but he was definitely spot on with the second.

"How's Ron?"

Harry sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Pretty beat up, but he'll be fine. I think he had passed out more from exhaustion than from the curses themselves."

"Good," she breathed a sigh of relief. "That's really good." Hermione paused and then swallowed before asking, "Is he...awake?"

Harry blinked and stared at her before glancing towards the door beyond which Ron was resting. "He's not. But Hermione...even if he was I doubt he'd want to see you."

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. "He's going to have to see me at some point, Harry. The base is only but so big."

"I know that. He knows it too, but even then I think he'll figure out a way to make sure that doesn't happen. You ripped his heart in two, you know."

That made Hermione cringe. She shuffled her feet awkwardly where she stood, her desire now to be close to Ron waning.

"...I know he fancies me."

Harry slowly shook his head. "He more than fancies you. He loves you. There was a time when I thought you loved him too."

"I _do_ love him, Harry." Hermione countered. "But just not in the way he does with me. I love him like I love you. You both mean the world to me."

"But you won't be with him." Harry stated with disappointment. It was so deep that Hermione felt it in her own chest.

"No, I won't be with him."

"But _Malfoy_ is a better option?"

"That's not fair." Hermione argued. "You can't compare them like that."

"You're bloody right I can't compare them!" Harry half-shouted. He caught himself momentarily and looked down both sides of the hall. Then he gestured to a bedroom two doors down and Hermione agreed to follow him, immediately silencing the room once the door was closed. She was more than sure that this conversation would reach, and stay, at a high noise level.

"In light of our friendship, Harry, can we please try to talk about this rationally?" Hermione pleaded, but Harry was shaking his head.

"You don't get it, do you? This... _thing_ with Malfoy isn't rational."

"This _thing_ that Malfoy and I have is a relationship." She replied bitterly and Harry pinched the bridge of his nose very reminiscent to Professor McGonagall.

"And it's not rational!" Harry repeated. "Think about it, Hermione. If I had suddenly come to you saying that I'd fallen in love with a Deatheater, what would you think? What would you have done?"

Hermione folded her arms over her chest. "Well, there'd certainly be a multitude of questions considering the majority of Deatheaters are men."

Harry groaned. "Hermione, be serious!"

The brunette rolled her eyes and sighed before finally giving in. "Don't go bursting a blood vessel, Harry; I know what you meant. And I get it," she reluctantly admitted. "Draco and I don't make sense. We both know that. And you know what? _We don't care_. You can't help what you feel, nor can you help who it's for. But you can act on it, so I did."

"Just like that?" Harry asked with skepticism. "He doesn't kill you so that becomes an instant turn on?"

"It wasn't quite like that, no." Hermione chuckled. "It was… There was just something different about him. Not killing me was my first clue. Coming back to me night after night was the second. Draco needed something and he found it in me, Harry. And I… I had someone who needed to be cared for, loved, and told that everything would be okay. The more time we spent together the easier it became to do until... _this_. This point right here where I'd do anything to keep him."

Harry stood flabbergasted. Hermione was riddled with anxiety at what he would say next and she stared at him with expectant eyes until he finally said something.

"...You really do love him, don't you?"

Hermione nodded. "I do. And I'm not going to apologize for it."

An awkward silence drifted in, but it didn't last for long. Harry rubbed his arm up and down nervously and seemed to be quite determined not to look at her right then. She decided to press him.

"Harry?"

"He's killed people, Hermione." Harry said suddenly. "Tortured them too. I could go on a tirade about how you shouldn't love someone like that, but something tells me I'd be arguing a moot point. Right?"

"Right,"

"Of course," he replied defeatedly. He tiredly ran his hands over his face and then let them fall to his pants' pockets. "I can't befriend someone like that. I hope you don't expect me to."

"I don't." Hermione confirmed. "I don't expect Draco to do the same for you either. The most I'm hoping for is maybe that you'll tolerate each other?"

Harry scoffed. "I doubt it. But I'll try for you."

Hermione gently smiled. "That's all I could ever ask for."

* * *

Neville was still unconscious much like Ron when Hermione went to check on him. Ginny decided to go bed, as did Harry, and McGonagall had turned in long ago to "de-stress." With no one awake to keep her company Hermione returned to Draco's room that would, without a doubt, also be her own. She was surprised to find him awake although he had been asleep not more than an hour ago.

"It feels like the damn arctic in here." Draco grumbled. Hermione grinned.

"Good," she said as she closed the door behind her. "That means your fever should be down."

Hermione walked over and sat on the edge of his bed so that she could feel his forehead and neck. Satisfied that he wouldn't burn up for the rest of the night, she reversed her Cooling Charms.

"How does your body feel?"

"Like I got trampled by hippogriffs." Draco brooded.

"Normally I'd say that you're exaggerating, but this time I think you're right." Hermione frowned. "You-Know-Who was so close to killing you. That's what Fleur said about your injuries."

"But he didn't, and that's what matters. The person you _should_ be worried about is Blaise." Draco followed her in frowning. "He was left behind to deal with our mess."

Hermione sighed and used her borrowed wand to transfigure her clothes into nightwear. "You-Know-Who won't kill him." She determined as she got into bed. "Why would he when he's his best chance at finding you?"

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Draco scoffed. "You do remember the living torment I went through when I had to find you and 'couldn't,' don't you? His life is about to become the same hell I worked so hard to escape from and failed miserably."

"You didn't 'fail miserably.'" Hermione countered. "You're safe here with the Order, aren't you? That has to count for something, doesn't it?"

"Oh sure," Draco drawled as he slowly and carefully shifted his body so Hermione could properly lay beside him. "Cooped up with people who'd rather put my head on a spike than be here with them. And while we're on the subject," he added cheekily, "how is dear ole Professor M? Plotting my death, I imagine?"

"Stop it." Hermione said sternly. "If Professor McGonagall was truly against you she wouldn't have let you in."

"And the rest of the motley crew?"

"Well, Ginny was on my side about rescuing you so I'd say you're fine with her. Considering Fleur's past and the fact that she healed you without complaint makes her okay. Harry and I talked and he's willing to tolerate you for my sake-"

Draco snorted.

"-And I sincerely doubt that Neville will be a problem. As for Ron…"

"He's the lucky winner?" Draco finished for her, and although she had let her gaze fall to the side, he could still see the fear in her eyes about the future fallout that was bound to happen. He pursed his lips and made her look at him. "It's only because I hate to see that look on your face will I promise you this: I'll be good and stay on my leash, but _only_ if he does."

Hermione contemplated his words. She was tempted to accept his conditions as is, but stalled. "What's your definition of 'being good?'"

A slow smile appeared on Draco's face. "Is it bad if I can't define it?"

Hermione couldn't help her own smile and shook her head at him. "Bad no, but dangerous? Very much so."

Draco laughed, flinched, and groaned. Hermione felt an internal pang at seeing him in distress. It wasn't just in his movements or in the grunts and groans he made. It was his face. The physical representation on his face was hurting her as though _she_ was the one who had been at the mercy of an evil wizard.

"Hermione,"

She looked at him and he gently poked his finger at her cheeks and the corners of her lips.

"Your vengeance is showing."

Hermione scoffed and settled neatly in the bed with her arms angrily crossed over her chest. "There are no more Horcruxes. He's as human as you or me. It shouldn't be this hard to kill him."

"Horcruxes or not he's still a powerful wizard." Draco noted. "He won't be as easy to kill as some Deatheater."

Hermione's thoughts instantly went to the Deatheater she had killed not more than a few hours ago. Angry wasn't the right word to describe how she had felt. She had been filled with a fury that she had never felt before, completely blinded by the fact that Draco was on the cusp of death and that Deatheater, perhaps not directly involved in Draco's injuries, was a representation of the man who had been. And now that the action was over, now that it was quiet, Draco was safe, and Hermione had time to reflect, she could accurately say that she had meant that curse. She had _wanted_ that man dead. And she didn't feel bad about it.

"How does it feel to kill, Draco?"

Draco was caught off-guard by the question. It was a momentous thing to ask, and he struggled with a definition that she would like.

"Honestly?" He sighed. "It depends. There are so many levels to killing that I can't give you a definitive answer."

Hermione tutted. "You sound like Blaise. That night you bugged Rabastan's house? He went on about the differences between self-defense and outright murder."

"And he's right. And unfortunately we deal with the latter far too much."

Hermione frowned and bit her inner jaw. "...I killed a Deatheater while trying to save you. I didn't feel anything."

"Consequences of the former," Draco told her. "Adrenaline, anger, self-defense. That's normal. Just hope you never have to hurt someone who's innocent. That'll rip you apart faster than you can imagine."

"A person will implode with those kind of feelings bottled up."

"Blaise will be fine."

Hermione didn't think that he knew she was actually referencing someone with her last statement, but regardless she had some serious problems with Draco's faith in his best friend's well-being. However, she was far too tired to fight him on it. They'd all miraculously just come out of a battle with Voldemort _alive._ No more thinking needed to happen tonight. Just sleep. Sleep and...comfort?

Much like he was accustomed to doing when they slept, Draco wrapped an arm around her. Oddly though, where it had once made her feel warm and cared for, it left Hermione feeling dirty and uncomfortable. The way his hand rested on her stomach, just below her breasts, and his pinky and ring finger accidentally brushing against one, it made her recoil faster than she thought possible.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked urgently.

 _Montague._

But the man's name didn't leave her lips. She would tell Draco eventually about what Blaise had saved her from, but not tonight.

"Hit a wall pretty hard during the rescue." Hermione lied. "Body hurts a little, so could you keep your arm to yourself for tonight?"

"Of course,"

* * *

Blaise woke up several hours later with a heavy weight on his chest. He hadn't slept well. Between hacking up blood every half an hour before eventually stopping and body aches, his sleep was very much interrupted. However, he knew that weight was because of the momentous task he had vowed to. The conditions of said vow were heavy on his mind and he kept mulling over just how he could circumvent them.

The bit about Draco had been surprisingly easy to figure out. The specific words used were " _should_ you find Draco Malfoy." It was easy then, wasn't it? Blaise simply had to avoid seeing him. Easy to navigate, but hard on the heart when it was your best friend you had to avoid. The other bit about finding the Order used the same bit of terminology. Granted, his desire to save them all was, honestly, nonexistent. But damn Granger was with them and unfortunately, he had recently admitted to himself, she was worth saving. Draco's witch or not. She _did_ tell those idiot friends of hers not to kill him after all.

But it was the first condition that was troublesome. He had to do his _utmost_ to find that Weasley girl. What was considered "utmost?" Would the Vow take in his definition of "utmost" or Voldemort's? When would it start to kill him?

Blaise sat up, groaning in the process, and grabbed his coin. He needed to get this sorted and sorted out _now._

* * *

Hermione's coin had been in her pocket and had remained there when she had transfigured her clothes into pajamas. Its heat had woken her and she hastily took it out, alarm written on her face and felt in her body as she strained to see Blaise's message in the room's half-light.

"What's wrong? What is it?" Draco asked sleepily. She smiled, both because he was perceptive, but also because Blaise was fine.

"Talk to your boyfriend. He misses you." Hermione said as she slipped her coin into Draco's hand. He woke up a bit after that, still obviously confused, but then he read the message and then grinned.

"You're not jealous, are you?"

"Of course not." She chuckled as she pulled the covers up to her neck and closed her eyes. "We both know I'm more attractive than he is."

"Touché,"

Draco, much more at ease than last night, took to messaging his best friend. He sent that he was fine, but before he could ask about how Blaise was, he frowned. A reply to his message came, and another, and then others. He then began to prod at Hermione's shoulder.

"Get up. Blaise needs you. It's urgent."

Hermione snapped her eyes wide open, sat up, and turned to Draco. "What happened?"

"He didn't say." Draco said as he gave her back the coin. "He's asking about a Floo call. Can you do that from here?"

"I suppose I could. If I make the call instead of the other way around he won't know where we are, so that's good. I'll have to ask Professor McGonagall for access to the fireplace. There's only one here for security reasons and it's in her quarters."

Draco snorted. "You have to ask _McGonagall_ for access? She nearly had a conniption over me and now you have to explain Blaise?" He laughed. "Good luck with _that_ one. Might as well tell Blaise it's a no-go."

"Pessimist," Hermione glared. She got out of bed and slipped on her shoes. "And for your information she knows about him already. I couldn't very well explain your rescue without mentioning him. So, I guess I'm hoping it'll force her to say yes." With a nervous sigh and her coin in her pocket, Hermione was ready to head out of the door but halted her steps immediately when she heard the bedsprings move. "Where do you think _you're_ going?"

Draco was halfway sitting up, slowly pushing the blankets off of him. "You're going to talk to Blaise, aren't you? I'm coming."

"Oh, no you're not." She countered as she rushed over to him. "You're staying right here."

" _No,_ I'm not. Give me one good reason why I should - _Damn it, bleeding hell!_ " He swore before falling back onto the bed and continuing to slew curses under his breath. He was holding his ribcage.

Despite pain never being a good thing, Hermione smiled in triumph. "That's one. You're still weak, Draco, and you need the bed rest. Maybe tomorrow you can get up and walk around, but not today. I'll let you know what Blaise says, alright?"

Draco grumbled profusely, but nodded anyway. He was such a big baby when sick or injured.

Hermione made the long trek to McGonagall's quarters. "Quarters" was a bit of a loose and fancy term for where she was honestly. It was just a master bedroom outfitted with the very fireplace that Hermione wanted. Once she had made it to the room she tentatively raised her hand and knocked.

"Professor McGonagall?"

She waited and glanced out the window. The sun was barely in the sky but still there. So what time was it then? Seven? It seemed like a good estimate.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned and frowned. Her old professor looked tired and she felt terrible for waking her.

"You were asleep. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's fine." McGonagall told her as she pulled open her door some more. "As it were I had a bit of trouble sleeping and gave up a little over an hour ago."

Hermione frowned deeper and fiddled with her sleeves. "Sorry again. And unfortunately there's something else that I have to ask of you."

McGonagall, already weary of whenever this young woman had something to tell her, pursed her lips and nodded as she let her into the room. Hermione headed inside, turned to face the older woman and just blurted it out.

"I need to set up a Floo Call with Blaise Zabini."

" _I beg your pardon?_ "

"I know you're reluctant, but-"

"Reluctant?!" McGonagall scoffed. "You want to set up a connection from our base _to a Deatheater!_ Why in Merlin's name would you think that I would allow such a thing?"

"Aside from the fact that he proved his loyalty to me when he saved my life?" Hermione prompted. No, she hadn't told her about the "horrific experience," but she still had managed to paint Blaise in a good light in terms of helping her against Flint and Montague. "He could have information on You-Know-Who. That's worth it, isn't it?"

McGonagall was stuck, that much was certain. Hermione could see her trying to keep her stoic, unrelenting nature, but the woman was just as curious as she. Not to mention she wasn't one to turn down something that could benefit them either. _Especially_ when they were, unfortunately, losing the war.

"I'll wake Potter and Miss Weasley," McGonagall said with a resigned sigh. Hermione furrowed her brow.

"What for?"

"Because I prefer to be prepared. Mr. Zabini may have saved your life, but from what I heard he has done more than his fair share of _ending_ lives. Should he or any Deatheater come through that fireplace, we'll be ready."

Hermione didn't even have a chance to protest, or even ask why she wouldn't be waking Fleur as well, before McGonagall was on her way. She had half a mind to make the call while she was gone, but the only reason she didn't was because she needed as many people on her side as possible. And so she impatiently tapped her foot and waited. A near ten minutes went by before McGonagall came back and with a sleepy Harry and Ginny in tow.

"This is such a bad idea." Harry grimaced as he closed the door after him. Hermione ignored him and went over to the fireplace. With a bit of Floo and Blaise's address, she stuck her head in to find the man in question pacing. When he noticed his fireplace lit up in green flames, he stopped and sneered.

"Took you long enough, Granger."

Hermione scowled. "How's your shoulder? You fell on it pretty hard last night."

"Bite me," he growled before summoning a chair and sitting down in front of her. He ran his hands over his face and it was only now that she could see how troubled he was.

"What's going on, Blaise?"

"Draco's in trouble. And so are the both of us."

Hermione cocked her brow. "The bit about Draco and me isn't very new information. But how are _you_ in trouble?"

Blaise bit the inside of his jaw before answering. "The Dark Lord forced an Unbreakable Vow on me."

" _He did what?"_

" _Oh hell, we're screwed."_

Blaise furrowed his brow at the voices that weren't from the witch in his fireplace. "Who's there, Granger?"

"Calvary in case you decide to murder us." Hermione replied dryly. Blaise grinned despite the situation and leaned back in his chair.

"Ah, Potter and Freckle-Faced Weasley. Of course."

"Freckle-Faced?!" Ginny shouted from behind Hermione. Blaise laughed.

"My apologies. It's the pretty one."

" _Focus_ , Blaise." Hermione lightly reprimanded. "What were the Vow's conditions?"

Blaise instantly frowned. "Well for starters, if I find Draco I have to kill him."

Hermione's heart, lungs, head, _everything_ fell to the pit of her stomach with that one. She swallowed deeply before biting her lower lip. "Undesirable, yes… However, avoidable. 'If' was the key word there, correct?"

"The word was 'should,' but the connotation stands. I've already determined that I'll make it a priority to keep Draco out of my line of sight."

"Sounds good to me. What else?"

Blaise tiredly rubbed his thumb into his temple as he said the next bit. "If I find the Order I have to tell the Dark Lord."

Gasps erupted from behind Hermione, but she ignored them. "Same wording used?"

Blaise nodded.

"Then the same principles apply to the Order as does for Draco. Vow or not, these conditions don't seem too worrisome."

"The last is." Blaise told her. "The Dark Lord made me vow to do my _utmost_ to find little Miss Weasley back there."

" _Me?_ " Ginny said in the background. "Why me?"

"A grave I dug myself, I'm afraid." Blaise grunted. "Damn Draco throwing in his lot with you all. I wanted to make sure he stayed safe so me, being the good friend and all with an obvious death wish offered my services. A way more direct way to keep in touch. Had I known an Unbreakable Vow would've been the consequences I would've done nothing."

"You would've still done something." Hermione corrected. "We both know that."

Blaise sneered. "Don't get mushy, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Regardless, I think that last condition can benefit everyone without people dying."

Naturally, Blaise's interest was piqued. "How so?"

"I'll let you know. Keep your coin close, alright?"

Blaise gave a curt nod and their Floo Call connection was cut. Hermione was groaning from kneeling for so long, but got up, dusted the soot off of her knees and turned to her teacher and friends.

"Oh no," Harry shook his head. "That's your thinking face. What are you cooking up?"

"Something _you_ ," Hermione pointed to Ginny, "are not going to like."

"Why? Why would I..?" Ginny trailed off and then let her jaw drop. "No. Hermione, you _can't_ be serious."

"I would certainly hope not." McGonagall piled on. "I admire you in many respects Miss Granger, always have, but you have put your friends' lives in danger enough. And it _certainly_ won't be for yet another Deatheater."

Hermione sighed. "Yes, I care about Blaise's life. However, this is also about _our_ lives. How else are we supposed to get information on what You-Know-Who's doing?"

"The coin." Harry said finitely. "You've been using it just fine if you ask me."

"And when Blaise is dead after not putting forth his 'utmost' effort in finding Ginny? Then what? Can't you see that we'll kill two birds with one stone this way?"

"No," McGonagall shook her head. "I understand where you're coming from, but I can't allow it. I won't."

"With all due respect," Hermione said. "It's not your permission that I'm seeking." She then turned to Ginny and took a deep breath. "And I'll have absolutely no hard feelings towards you if you say no to meeting with him. I just thought I'd ask."

Ginny's face was the pure definition of conflicted. She let her eyes fall on McGonagall, then Harry, to the fireplace, and then finally back to Hermione.

"If he gets wily I'm killing him." Ginny told her. "End of story."

Hermione wanted to object, but she knew a counter-offer when she saw one and knew that it was this or nothing.

"Fine,"

* * *

 **Author's note:** Hmm, Blaise and Ginny working together. That's a disaster waiting to happen lol. Thanks for patiently waiting for this! :). Also, I might have already mentioned it, don't remember, but I have a Tumblr (writerspassion18). Now I also have a facebook page (writerspassion18). I finally caved... It just makes it easier to keep all the updates and everything in one spot. Ah well, gotta move with the times lol.

-WP

 **Guest:** Yeah, I get it. It's kind of like Theo died for nothing, just like Draco said. On the other hand, she wanted to be there for him. *sigh*. It's such a mess :(


	20. Petty in the Flesh

"Hermione?" Draco said immediately as his bedroom door opened. He frowned bitterly when he realized it wasn't her and that Veela instead. "What are you doing here?"

Fleur huffed. "'Ello to you too. I came to see 'ow you were. Not to mention add to your treatments."

Draco noticed for the first time that she was levitating a small box of potions and balms. He nodded and she came fully into the room.

"And Hermione?"

Fleur smiled a little. His care for her was clearly evident.

"With the others planning. Not with Ron, though. 'E is still asleep."

Draco tilted his head to one side as he watched Fleur go through her medical kit. "Why aren't you with them?"

"Ask McGonagall," she grumbled. "She 'as a problem with Deatheater lovers. She thinks that we're tainted."

"For someone who thinks that I'm surprised she hasn't shunned Hermione yet."

"She would be an idiot to do so. We 'ave a much better chance winning with 'er than without 'er. No one can deny that. So, McGonagall will tolerate 'er for as long as she needs to. Now stay still."

Draco did as he was told. Fleur had her wand in hand and was letting its lighted tip pass over him from top to bottom.

"It's diagnostic test." She said without him asking. Draco pursed his lips

"You're a Healer."

"I was training to be one but was interrupted by the war. Still, I'm the closest to a professional that we 'ave."

"Lucky lot that makes you." Draco said as he let his eyes follow her wand. "If I get banged up I'm left to my own devices."

"I wouldn't say that." Fleur shrugged. She finished with the diagnostic and motioned with her hands that she was going to lift his shirt. He allowed her and she opened one of the bottles that contained some sort of balm. "You 'ave 'Ermione. She's your 'Ealer whether she knows what she's doing or not."

Draco couldn't help but smile at that. His witch would cut off her right arm to make sure that he was alright. She'd do anything for him really. And then that's when he truly regarded the Veela who was attending to his healing injuries. Fleur had done that with Theo, hadn't she? She had wanted so desperately to be with him, to make sure that he was okay, that she didn't do what he had told her to.

"I'm sorry about what I said concerning Theo." Draco said once Fleur was done with him. She had been in the midst of putting away her supplies when he spoke and fumbled them.

"What?"

"I shouldn't have lashed out the way that I did."

Fleur swallowed. "You were upset. It's understandable."

"Maybe… But I get it. Hermione would've done the same thing for me and I for her. Technically she already did. I shouldn't have judged you."

Fleur felt tears pricking her eyes, but she held them back. She had cried enough during the night and she doubted that her body could take anymore. Thank Merlin Hermione came in at the time that she did. And not alone, so it appeared.

"Damn," Draco groaned as he stared at the entourage entering in. "I'm surrounded by bloody Gryffindors and I only like one of them."

"I would suggest that you alter your tone, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall said sternly. Draco did a piss poor job of masking his sneer.

"Of course, Professor." He then turned to Hermione, the only person for whom his gaze softened and his demeanor changed for. "What did Blaise say?"

"The short version?" Hermione sighed as she helped Neville onto the only chair in the room. He was a right mess, so Draco surmised. Bruises and cuts everywhere, clothes like he'd gone playing in mud… But he was alive, against all odds, and that's what mattered. "You-Know-Who forced him into making an Unbreakable Vow."

Draco's face completely drained of all color. "Excuse me?"

Hermione frowned. "I'm really sorry, Draco. Blaise was just trying to help, but it didn't work out the way that he wanted."

"Help? He wanted to help? What the hell was he trying to do that he ended up in an Unbreakable Vow?"

"He wanted to make Ginny his next task." Hermione explained. "And it worked, other conditions of the Vow disregarded."

Draco gulped. "I'm afraid to know what those conditions are."

"They're not as bad as you think. And while we all discuss it, Ginny's going to help Blaise out with condition number one."

The redhead in question was grumbling under her breath. Draco regarded her in both amusement and confusion. Even more so when, after fiddling with her coin, Hermione gave it to the woman.

"Remember what I said, Hermione." Ginny told her. "If he's wily…"

"I know." Hermione nodded. "And he won't be."

At least she hoped he wouldn't.

* * *

After Ginny had said yes to meeting with Blaise, Hermione had contacted him about the redhead being okay with a meetup. What was surprising to them both, however, was the fact that he wanted a meetup today. "As soon as possible, Granger," to use his exact words. Even through coin the Italian had this derisiveness about him that made Ginny feel uneasy. But for the sake of the bigger picture, she was going to do this. That's why she was currently pacing the bottom floor of an abandoned warehouse midway between London and Belgium. It was dark, moldy, smelly... No, she hadn't been living in luxury these past couple of months, but this was downright degrading.

"You look uncomfortable, Miss Weasley."

Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned in the direction of Blaise's smooth, yet somehow condescending voice, and found him casually walking up to her. With hands in his pockets and glancing at his surroundings like he was fond of it, anyone would think this was a friendly meetup.

"I hope you know that the only reason I'm here is because Hermione asked me." Ginny said straightly. "I care absolutely nothing about that Vow or your life."

"I'm not surprised." Blaise replied nonchalantly. "That witch can give a pretty damn good speech. How's Draco?"

"He'll live. Now that's out of the way, what can you tell me about You-Know-Who and the Deatheaters? What are they planning? Who's next on their kill list? What-?"

"For the love of Merlin," he groaned. "Can you not grill me like your life depends on it?"

Ginny grumbled in frustration. "My life does depend on it. I'm a potentially dead woman walking with you people running about!"

"You won't die. Today, at the very least." Blaise added as an afterthought. "You're...quite safe here with me."

Ginny blinked. His words actually seemed…sincere, if she dared to call it such. But her emotional walls were built up high and were electrified. She eyed him warily before replying,

"For today," she lifted her chin. "I'm safe with you for today."

Blaise grinned, a slick grin that made Ginny's skin crawl, and he nodded. "For today."

He moved towards her and she flinched. Blaise derived an unusual satisfaction from that, but decided not to ponder it as he did many of the other things that tickled his fancy. He used his wand to transfigure a set of broken pipes into a chair and then sat down with a graceful thud.

"Are you going to stand the entire time we chat?"

Ginny huffed. "No."

She, too, used her wand to do some transfiguration and positioned her new chair near enough to hear him, but far enough for her comfort. The purposeful distance didn't escape Blaise's notice and he leaned back in his chair.

"You know, pet, this partnership isn't going to work if you're a frightened, cold-shouldered shrew."

"I am not frightened."

Blaise smirked and cupped his hands over his lap. "So you're admitting to be a cold-shouldered shrew?"

Ginny was getting red in the face. "I'm not that either. Furthermore, this isn't a partnership of any kind. You're here to help me, that's all."

"That's where you're wrong." Blaise said quickly. "I'm here to help Draco and that fussy brunette."

Ginny cocked a brow in the air. "You actually care about Hermione?"

"She's attached to that blond git I call my best friend. I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"In caring about her or helping her?" Ginny asked as she leaned forward in her seat. "There is a difference you know. One of them actually involves feelings." She gave a smirk of her own and placed a hand on her check. "Do you even have those?"

"Oh, yes, very original." Blaise replied dryly. "Let's play up the whole Slytherins-Deatheaters don't have emotions bit. If that was the case I wouldn't be in this situation: my life hanging in the balance by some stupid Vow and sitting here talking to you."

Ginny sucked her teeth before sitting up straight. "Touché. Is there...anything that you can tell me that's worth something?"

"Nothing that you don't already know."

"So, the reason for us to meet today was for what then?"

Blaise's grin was back. "For me to get an assessment."

"Of what?"

"Of you,"

Ginny was uneasy again. She avoided the desperate urge to fidget in her seat and eyed him up and down. "Well, don't leave me in suspense. What are your conclusions?" She asked mockingly.

"We're going to have a very interesting time together." Blaise told her. "Whether good or bad, however, that's an entirely different story."

* * *

"They'll come down hard on us sooner rather than later." Draco said grimly. They had all just finished going through the other two conditions that Blaise had agreed to. It had left a heaviness on his chest and it certainly wasn't helping with his injuries. "The Dark Lord isn't very patient."

Neville snorted. "You held out on Hermione for months. That sounds pretty patient to me."

"He liked to see me emotionally tortured, there's a difference. With Blaise…he'll only grow angrier the longer it takes for him to complete his task."

"Death by Vow or death by snake demon," Fleur huffed. "Sounds like Blaise 'as 'orrible options."

McGonagall's nose crinkled. "Yes, well, as much as Mr. Zabini ranks highly and both your and Miss Granger's priority list, our main concern should be for ourselves."

"And," Hermione added as she looked over at the older woman. "As we discussed prior, for our best interest, Blaise needs to stay alive. If not for good, for as long as possible." She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "For that, the Deatheaters are going to have to find us at some point."

Harry, as well as Neville and McGonagall, choked. "Sorry?"

"I don't mean actually find us." Hermione elaborated quickly. "Just...breadcrumbs here or there. To make it look like Blaise is on Ginny's trail. Granted, he'll have to find the base eventually, but we just won't be here. We can leave and go to another one of our bases. The one in Dublin, to Seamus."

"And after that?" Harry questioned. "We can't keep leading them to us, Hermione."

"I know, and I don't want that. I'm just hoping that in between then we can find a way to turn things around for us. At least it'll buy us time. Well?" She addressed everyone. "What do you think?"

Quiet fell for a moment as everyone contemplated things. Fleur, from what Hermione could see, was on her side. No surprise there, to be honest. She could see McGonagall with her clasped lips not wanting to give her approval, but seeming to lose the fight, while Harry and Neville were giving each other questioning shrugs. Draco, amusedly enough, looked impatient, annoyed, and bored.

"If we're already baiting them, why not use it to our advantage?" Neville proposed. "If they come here, expecting to ambush us, why not ambush them? Take out who we can and then get out of here?"

"No." Draco said straightly. "If we look anything close to organized it'll seem like we were tipped off. That could get Blaise exposed and then killed."

"Draco's right." Hermione nodded. "We can't take the risk."

"For who?" Neville challenged. "Your boyfriend's friend? I'm sorry, Hermione, but as Professor McGonagall pointed out we," he pointed to everyone in the room, "matter a bit more than him."

"Mr. Longbottom is right." McGonagall chimed in. "However, I don't think going against Deatheaters is such a good idea."

Neville's face dropped. "But why-?"

"We don't know how many Deatheaters will be coming or how well they would be prepared." She continued. "Going on blind faith that we can take Mr. Zabini's word, in times of war orders are often given quickly. How could we be sure he could tell us what we're up against? Hiding, as much as I would rather not, is our best option. For now, at the very least."

"Then it's settled." Hermione declared before anyone could argue. "We lead them on the chase until… Until we can afford not to be chased anymore."

* * *

When Ginny came back to the base everyone knew it. She was a walking tornado and if Draco hadn't been careful she could've taken his eye out with her wand. However, his motion to get out of her way had jerked his weak body a bit too much and made him cry out. So much so that he had to muffle himself with his hand.

"Damn it, Malfoy!" Ginny scolded. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Draco scowled and removed his hand. "Who are you? Hermione now?" He stopped for a moment and looked around. "You haven't seen her around, have you?"

Ginny grinned despite herself. "Oh, hiding from the Mrs., are we?"

"I'm not hiding from anyone, thank you very much." Draco replied haughtily. "You try being confined to a bed all day. Normally I wouldn't mind, but it's not like Hermione's there to-"

"I do not need to know what you and Hermione do under the sheets." Ginny grimaced. "Granted, I'd rather listen to you talk rather than that arse you have for a friend."

Draco grinned. "Come now, Blaise isn't that bad. He and I are practically the same."

Ginny scoffed. "No, for you, I haven't had the overwhelming urge to hex your balls off. For Zabini, on the other hand, it's all I want to do and then some."

The blond grimaced and very nearly crossed his legs. "Can we not talk about hexing nether regions, please?"

"And you just said 'please!' Against all odds you have manners and you're polite!"

"I think you just insulted my character." Draco frowned.

"What I'm saying is that Zabini has none of that and it's frustrating!" Ginny fumed. "Oddly enough he seems to hold Hermione in a very high regard."

Draco tilted his head, but he didn't disagree. "What makes you say that?"

Ginny shrugged. "He worries about her safety."

"As well he should." Draco nodded. "I'd hunt his arse down if he let anything happen to her."

"I don't think he will." Ginny reluctantly agreed. And then she bit the inside of her jaw before adding, "She's...safe with him."

* * *

After the meeting Hermione had left Draco alone and in search of the one person she hadn't seen nor spoken to since coming to the base: Ron.

She didn't know what quite to expect. Actually no, she did know. He would be angry, confused…heartbroken. She was hardly prepared to deal with any of that, but they were all confined here until further notice so wounds need to start healing and fast.

Hermione opened Ron's bedroom door without knocking. He was awake and sitting on the edge of his bed, rolling his shoulder and flexing his arm.

Ron looked up.

Hermione gulped. Perhaps "angry" was too weak of a term.

"Get out."

"No."

"Get out, now."

"No, Ron." Hermione shook her head. "We need to talk. We're not going to avoid each other just because you hate my taste in men."

Ron shivered at that as he watched her close the door and silence the room. "Malfoy isn't a man, he's a...a...a snake!"

"Right," she sighed. "Because I haven't heard you call him that a thousand times before."

"You're even sarcastic like him now." Ron wrinkled his nose. "How could you do it, Hermione? How could you let him taint you?"

"You can only taint something if it was perfect, and I'm not perfect."

"You were perfect to me."

Hermione's emotions were crushed at that. Pulverized really. Any argument she had over Draco fell apart at that and she shuffled her feet.

"You had to have known how I felt." Ron continued.

Hermione nodded. "I did. And I love you, Ron, but just…not the way that I love him."

She couldn't have possibly said that any worse, but it was the truth and he needed to hear it. Not to say that he would like it, of course.

Ron huffed. "A Deatheater. A murderer. This isn't going to end well, Hermione, and you're not only ruining your life, but you're wasting your time."

"Ron,-"

"Whatever happily ever after you've got going on in your head is a waste. Why? Because if by some bloody miracle we all make it out of this, Malfoy, the Deatheater and murderer, is going to Azkaban. It doesn't matter that you're with him. It doesn't matter that he's here. Politics is probably the only place where your past matters, and I'll make sure that it does."

"And you'd do it out of spite." Hermione said angrily. "Not for justice, no. All because you can't take the fact that I don't want to be with you!"

"No, it's because he shouldn't be with you!"

"That's still not a good excuse!" She screamed. "Ronald Weasley, you are every definition of petty right now. You don't have to accept the situation. You don't even have to like it. But you will play fair. You want to see Draco thrown into Azkaban? Fine! But do it because he's committed crimes, not because you're jealous."

"So you admit it then." Ron said calmly. "That all of this is a waste of time because he'll only rot in Azkaban when it's over."

"I never said that." Hermione said sternly. "And I don't plan on him going to Azkaban either. I'll make sure that he doesn't."

Hermione removed the Silencing Charm and stomped her way to the door, only to stop when she heard familiar voices.

"Malfoy, will you stop making me cross-eyed and put my wand down!"

Hermione didn't have time to think about what was happening in the hallway. Nor did Ron, but that didn't stop him from running (with obvious pain) pass her and into the hall. She followed and found Draco handing back Ginny's wand.

"What the hell are you doing to my sister?" Ron demanded. Despite the tone, Draco faced him calmly. Ginny was already exasperated by him.

"There's nothing to stress over, Ron." She told him. "He was just taking off the Lip-Locker Curse he put on me."

"You cursed my sister?!" Ron asked with a slackened jaw.

"Relax, Weasley." Draco rolled his eyes. "It was a Lip-Locker Curse. There are far worse things I could've done to her. I think you know that."

Ron sputtered. "Was…? Was that a threat?"

"No threat. Just fact."

"Why did you cast it?" Hermione asked, genuinely intrigued.

"No one knew about my otherwise traitorous ways aside from you. I wanted to keep it that way."

Ron suddenly groaned aloud. "What the bloody hell are you all talking about?"

Draco chuckled as he eyed the man up and down. Particularly how weak he looked the longer he stood on his feet. "You'd better get back into bed, Weasley. You did take a wallop after coming to my rescue and all."

Ron looked like he was ready to implode. Screw potions, balms, and spells. Seeing the man on the verge of an aneurysm was all the cure Draco needed.

"I'm going to back to bed." Draco turned to Hermione and smiled -mischievously she might add. "I'll see you there."

Hermione knew bait when she saw it. Ron was quite good at falling for it. And despite the logical need to scold Draco for foregoing the leash he said he'd stay on, however tame his ploy, she didn't. She was mad enough at Ron to let Draco get away with it this time. And so she told him to wait for her, took his hand, and headed to their bedroom together while a fuming Ron watched them leave.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm back! Lol. I hope that you liked the chapter! I'll update this to include my normal guest replies. I'm currently on a train and it's hard to do on my phone.

I've also got exciting news! This story got nominated in the Enchanted Awards (Wonder Woman - Most Kick-Ass Hermione, category!) To whoever nominated this, THANKS! Happily Divorced was also nominated (Cotton Candy - Best Fluff), and Unhinged (All the Feels - Best Angst AND Shaken, Not Stirred - Best Action/Adventure). Here's hoping they make it to the finals round!

-WP


	21. Risky Business

"He is so _infuriating!_ " Hermione grumbled once she and Draco made it back to their bedroom. "I get it. We don't make sense together. Fine-"

"Hermione,"

"But give me a well-argued reason!" She continued, oblivious to Draco's attempt at capturing her attention. "I'll refute it anyway, but still-!"

" _Hermione,_ "

"And if he thinks for one second I'm going to spend these upcoming days arguing with him then he's got another thing… -Draco! What are you doing?"

Draco had walked up behind her and, without warning, began nibbling on her ear and down the side of her neck.

"There are very few things that will shut you up when you start to ramble," he said against her skin.

Hermione knew that to be true, and so she stood pleasantly helpless as he wrapped his arms around her torso. She cringed, however, when his hands slid up her shirt and she straightway disentangled herself from him, a look of horror on her face and poorly masked.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, clearly worried. Hermione bit her bottom lip, desperately fighting tears that wanted to spill.

She would give _anything_ not to have to say this.

"When you… When you get close it…" Hermione took a deep breath and steadied her shaking hands by clasping them together. "Montague nearly raped me. Your touches remind me of it."

In her mind, the memory of it had been a burden. Having now said it out loud, it had instantly become a burden on Draco too, and he stared at her blankly, slowly lowering himself onto the bed behind him.

"Blaise came in time," Hermione continued as she anxiously wrung her hands together. "He took care of it."

Draco's jaws clenched at that, and his eyes took on a darker shade of grey that she was unaccustomed to seeing.

"Not well enough," he said darkly. "Montague is still alive."

Hermione frowned. "As much as I wish him dead, Blaise was right to only kill one of my attackers. It would've been suspicious otherwise."

"I don't care!" Draco snapped, so much so that Hermione took a step back. He sighed and ran tired hands over his face. "He violated you, Hermione. He violated you enough to make you afraid of me," he added with sadness. "He deserves to die for that."

"And he will," Hermione replied as she moved to sit near him. "He will and at the proper moment. For right now… I just need to cope. Better yet, I'd rather forget how he made me feel."

Draco followed his witch's gaze and realized that she had an eye on her wand. He reached for her hand and took it.

"Obliviated trauma has a tendency to come back," he said. "A Calming Potion will do you better. How does that sound?"

A deep expression of sorrow was on her face, but she nodded anyway. This hurt Draco more than he could describe. Well, not more than what he told her next.

"I'll ask Fleur for some. In the meantime, you should tell me…" He took a deep breath and shut his eyes in extreme fear and trepidation. "You should tell me where he touched you so I can avoid it."

* * *

After his meeting with the redhead earlier that day and then consulting with Hermione privately after, Blaise had devised a plan that he hoped would keep the Vow from killing him. It would require excessive effort on the part of the witch, but he supposed it could work out in his favor. Testy and fiesty, he could tell that she liked to be in charge. Or rather, she thought herself better than him or more worthy so that she should be calling the shots. It was...adorable in a laughable sort of way. Quite frankly, Blaise could use all the laughs he could get. He was alone now. No Theo. No Draco. No one to distract him from drinking himself into a stupor.

Lovely.

Blaise was seconds away from putting his glass to his lips when his Mark burned. He scowled deeply and checked the time. Half-past midnight. Voldemort didn't give a rat's arse at what time he called his followers, and so Blaise had to pretend that it didn't bother him. He set down his glass, picked up his wand, and disapparated. He was on Malfoy Manor property in seconds and took a deep breath to prepare himself for what was most likely bound to be a torture session.

"My lord," Blaise greeted Voldemort once he had entered his overlord's sanctuary. Said overlord was sitting behind a large desk, his elbows on the table and his hands cupped. If Blaise could describe how he looked right now it would be one word: distressed. It was rare to see him as such, however it was clear that there was worry in his eyes and a serious weight on his shoulders. And what was stress for him was a burden for Blaise.

"Well," Voldemort teased as he looked Blaise up and down. "Seeing as you're still alive you must be upholding the Vow. What have you been doing to find the witch?"

"Goyle's discussed his methods of finding her when she was his task." Blaise told him. "I've fixed where he's failed."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed with interest as Blaise knew he would. "Go on."

"He was chasing the redhead's ghost. I won't be doing that."

A grunt-like chuckle left Voldemort's throat. That's when he stood. Blaise kept his gaze steady on the man-creature as he walked up to him. He even went so far as to circle him before stopping yet again in front of his face.

"You're saying that you can predict the witch's movements?"

"Yes. She's as predictable as any resistance member once they've developed a method. I'll track down her old hideouts, and they'll lead me to new ones. I guarantee it."

"Guarantee…" Voldemort smiled in a cruel fashion. "My favorite word. How long?"

Blaise gulped, but he hoped it wasn't visible. "Soon,"

"That, I'm afraid, is not specific enough. So, I ask again," he raised his wand and stared Blaise directly in the eye. "How soon?"

Despite having come up with a fairly decent plan, a time frame was _not_ one that Blaise had committed himself to. He breathed deeply through his nose before answering, "A week,"

Blaise was down on the ground in less than a second. Voldemort had been ready to curse him the moment a reply he didn't like had left his lips, and he certainly hadn't wasted the time. However, he _refused_ to outright curl up on the ground despite feeling like daggers were ripping his flesh. Instead, Blaise worked his arse off to stay on his knees as he convulsed.

Voldemort lifted the curse. "You were saying?"

Blaise panted and looked up at him, doing his best to rein in his hatred of the man. "Wednesday,"

Blaise nearly buckled this time as he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse again. To his surprise, and perhaps Voldemort's too, he didn't fall. "S-sunday! I'll have her Sunday!"

Voldemort released the curse and grinned. "That's better. Do well and you'll live. If not, either I or the Vow will kill you. That is what I _guarantee._ "

* * *

Ginny had been getting ready for bed when the coin she now kept in her pocket at all times grew warm. She frowned aloud, hoping to not have to be bothered with the sarcastic, egotistical man for at least a full twenty-four hours. She pulled out the coin and read the message.

 _My apartment. Now._

Ginny stared wide-eyed. Then she scoffed as she wrote back.

 _Somewhere else._

She refused to go anywhere that belonged to him. Yes, she had been to his place before, but that was before she had known it was his. Before she loathed him for reasons other than being a Deatheater. Not to mention she had had people with her.

 _No time._

That was his response and Ginny frowned. If she didn't know any better, she would say that it sounded urgent. And now she had to put her own feelings aside because this was more than just about her. This was about the Order. However, she would make this encounter work on _her_ terms. Not his.

 _Ten minutes._

Ginny spent the first three of those minutes heading to Hermione and Draco's room. She felt terrible for disturbing them at this time of night, but it was necessary. And so she waited for a moment before knocking again when she heard no movement inside. Eventually the door did open a crack and Hermione stood on the other side of it, rubbing the palm of her hand over her eyes.

"Hi Gin," she greeted sleepily. "What's wrong?"

"Zabini wants to meet." Ginny blurted out. _That_ certainly took the sleepy out of Hermione. "Can you come with me? I know you trust him and everything, but still I-"

"It's fine," Hermione replied. "We can go. Besides, if he's calling you at this time of night it has to be important."

Ginny nodded and Hermione stepped into the hall, pajamas and all, so that they could head outside to disapparate. They landed in the middle of Blaise's living room and immediately checked themselves for any splinches. None, thank Merlin.

"What's this? You needed a chaperone?" Blaise taunted in a cheeky tone. He had just taken the last step off his stairs and stood at the bottom of it, watching the two witches who were standing in his living room. Ginny huffed and angrily crossed her arms.

" _No,_ " she lied blatantly. "You messaged me at one-thirty in the morning. I figured it to be important and asked Hermione to come."

Blaise cocked a brow. He glanced at Hermione first before sliding his eyes back to Ginny and smirking. "If you say so. As for you," he turned his gaze back to the brunette. "You're putting this on."

Hermione was incredulous and Ginny completely mind-boggled when Blaise slipped off his outer shirt, leaving behind a white tank, and crossing the space between them to toss it at her.

"While I appreciate the view, Draco and I have a bit of courtesy when each other's women are involved."

Hermione looked down at herself. It wasn't like she was wearing a slip. It was a scooped-neck tank top and a pair of loose-fitting pajama bottoms. Ginny scoffed loud enough to crack a mirror.

"You act like you've never seen a pair of breasts before." She grumbled. Blaise shrugged and headed straight for his couch before motioning for them to do the same opposite him.

"While the complete opposite of what you said is true, what I did was called manners." Blaise said smartly. "And it's also a sign of respect. Just because _you're_ unfamiliar with the concept doesn't mean you should condemn me for it."

"What did you want to talk about, Blaise?" Hermione asked abruptly. There was no time for fighting and she could see that this was going to go nowhere _very_ quickly.

Mirth and jest left Blaise immediately and he rubbed a tired hand on the back of his neck.

"The Dark Lord is living up to his reputation of impatience. He gave me a deadline to find her."

Both women's faces fell.

"How long?" Hermione gulped.

"Sunday,"

Ginny's mouth flopped open and she stuttered in her response. "Sunday? He's giving you until _Sunday?_ It's Friday, Zabini. Nearly two in the morning, of course, but still Friday." She tutted and shook her head. "You're on death's door now. I would say good knowing you, but I wouldn't mean it."

"Ginny!" Hermione hissed. She could see Blaise's jaw tightening and if he was anything like Draco it was a sign he was about to explode. "Give us five minutes, please."

The redhead stared between the two before muttering, "Gladly," and headed down a hallway where a bathroom was clearly visible. Although she was gone, Blaise was still seething.

"Your friend's a bitch."

"She's temperamental."

Blaise huffed and then sucked his teeth. "How _politically correct_ of you to say."

Hermione sighed and stood, slowly pacing in front of the couch.

"We only have five minutes. We need to figure out a way we can still work the original plan."

"Not likely," Blaise grumbled with a cross of his arms. "The original plan is dead, and you know it. With a deadline so close, I can't come up with a trail to follow without it being too convenient."

Hermione groaned. "Well, we have to do _something._ You're dead if we don't."

"While you may care about that, the rest of the Order doesn't. They won't care that by Sunday I'll be dead whether by Vow or the Dark Lord."

"If you know that, what was the point of calling Ginny here then? You had have known she would've just shrugged you off. Technically speaking, only _your_ life is on the line here since you don't know where we are."

"True, but I still had an idea."

Hermione cocked a brow. Blaise was staring off dreamily and it unnerved her at how calm he had suddenly looked. "I'm afraid to ask, but...what was it?"

"Corner the lovely Miss Weasley into telling me where you were by holding your life, and everyone else's, hostage." Blaise grinned. "Some convincing lie that I figured out a way to find you all by tracking you through McGonagall's fireplace, and that I wouldn't think twice of bringing every Deatheater to you if there was no other solution. That would've lit a fire under her, don't you think?"

The brunette's eyes widened at that and she stiffened harder than a rigid board. "You wouldn't have actually done that, _would you?_ "

Blaise stopped smiling. "Draco's still with your lot, remember? And you," he added quietly. "Had it worked I would've still warned you to leave before we came."

Silence fell. The wheels started turning in Hermione's head and the perfect plan came tumbling out of her mouth before she could find any flaws.

"Come anyway,"

Blaise, who was in mid-stretch, paused abruptly and stared at her with a creased brow. "Excuse me?"

"I said to come anyway." Hermione reiterated. "Do _exactly_ what you said you'd do, except we won't lie to Ginny or coerce her, nor will you come through McGonagall's fireplace. You'll use the pantries. I told you once how they worked, remember? They provide a direct link to where we are and you won't need permission to get in. You're a trained enough killer to come up with such an idea in a short amount of time so that it won't look suspicious."

"Granger," Blaise breathed. "Why...why would you tell me something like that? Do you realize what kind of information you just gave me?"

"You're going to die." Hermione said simply. "And last I checked, I still owed you one for saving me."

Blaise swallowed. "This is one hell of a thank you."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "Maybe,"

"What did I miss?" Ginny asked as she finally came back from her extended dismissal.

Blaise didn't look at her. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on perhaps _the_ riskiest witch he'd ever met in his life. "Sit down. We have a plan to discuss."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Sorry for the wait! Life. That's pretty much my excuse and a good one lol. Also, thank you all for reading because this story won for the Enchanted Awards best kick-ass Hermione. And Happily Divorced won as well, best fluff. Couldn't believe it, so much appreciated!

Replies to Guests

Megafan1: Ew, exam season! Glad you had something to pick you up!

Guest: Thank you! Nothing like winding up a redhead ;)

-WP


	22. Rogue Movements

"I don't like this," Ginny whispered as she and Hermione stood in the foyer of the base. "You're allowing Deatheaters to come straight to us."

"That was always the plan, Ginny," Hermione whispered back. "This is just...a more offensive approach. Besides, we won't even be here when they come. At least Blaise will adhere to You-Know-Who's deadline."

Ginny scoffed and crossed her arms. "Who's side are you on anyway?"

Hermione paused and blinked. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that all you seem to care about are Malfoy, which I get, and Zabini, which I'm completely flabbergasted over. The people at this base were once your priority."

"They, and you, still are," Hermione said sternly. "But what you and everyone here needs to realize is that Blaise shares in that priority too. It would kill Draco if anything happened to him."

Ginny cocked a brow. "What would it do to you?"

"If you want me to say that I'd cry over him, the answer is a harsh no. I'd still feel bad though."

"What are you two doing?" McGonagall's voice appeared. The two women jumped out of their skins, but calmed once they realized who had interrupted them.

"We just came from Blaise's," Hermione answered her. The worried, yet disdainful expression the older woman was giving her encouraged her to keep talking. "There have been some developments and we need to leave here by Saturday."

McGonagall's brows shoot up. "Leave? Forgive me. I know the plan was to do so at some point, but so soon? Why?"

"You-Know-Who gave Blaise a deadline to find Ginny by. Sunday. He's going to bring Deatheaters here on that day which means we need to leave before then."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "Zabini wouldn't know where to start looking for us unless someone told him."

"I didn't have to tell him. Blaise is smart and to save himself he figured out a way to find us by tracking the Floo from when I called him. He called Ginny and me to warn us."

Hermione did her best not to look at Ginny right then. It was a blatant lie. Blaise's lie, to be precise. However, McGonnagall didn't need to know that she did, indeed, give him a way to find them. It would be considered an act of betrayal by the witch if she knew.

"I knew it," McGonnagall scolded. "I knew that man couldn't be trusted."

"Professor, I-"

"That is enough, Miss Granger. Take Miss Weasley and go wake the others. We have to contact Mr. Finnegan and then pack away what we need. We're leaving _today._ "

McGonnagall left with a flourish of her night robes and headed further into the house. Hermione let out a deep breath while Ginny shook her head.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Hermione," she said quietly and then fished out the coin and gave it back to Hermione. "This is yours and Zabini's brainchild of an idea. Take it."

The brunette bit the inside of her jaw as she pocketed the coin and Ginny led the way upstairs so that they could begin rousing everyone. Hermione had made it all the way upstairs and was about to knock on Harry's door when her pocket heated up. Hermione took out the coin and immediately furrowed her brow at the message from Blaise.

 _I need a house elf_

* * *

Blaise had slept very little. He spent the remainder of the night/morning figure out how this plan of his and Hermione's would work all the while having phantom pains in his chest and wondering if they were real.

By noon he was showered and dressed. And by twelve-thirty he was staring at a wide-eyed house elf in the middle of his living room. She was scared. That much was for certain. Creature or not, servant or not, she must have known he was a Deatheater and was therefore terrified.

"Miss Hermione said you needed Herra?"

"Yes," Blaise nodded as he took a step towards her. "Did Miss Hermione give me command over you?"

"Yes, she did."

Blaise smiled. "Good. You'll do everything I tell you _exactly_ as I tell you. There will also come a time where you'll be brought before the Dark Lord. You know who he is, yes?"

Herra was too overcome with terror to reply verbally, but she did nod.

"When that happens you will _not_ give me away by letting on that you know me, or that we've spoken, or that I have command over you. Understood?"

She nodded again.

"And when the Dark Lord, myself, or any Deatheater asks about the Order's pantries, you _will_ say what you know."

Herra's eyes widened even more than their natural state. She wanted to argue, he knew, but this was a command that she couldn't refute.

And so with a frown and her head hung low, she nodded once again.

"Yes,"

"Good. As for an order you can do right now, cut a bit of Ginny Weasley's hair for me. When you come back, I have other orders for you."

Herra gave one final nod of acquiescence before disapparating. One step down, a million more to go. For the next one Blaise headed over to his fireplace and got down on his knees. He threw in some Floo Powder and stuck his head in.

"Gregory Goyle residence,"

Blaise's head have a nasty turn, but luckily enough he'd done this countless times so as not to throw up. At least when it was over he didn't have to go shouting for the man to hear him in his modest (emphasis on "modest") home. The man in question was eating in front of the fireplace.

"Either you're starving or that's a gourmet meal you've got there."

Goyle looked up from his plate and shrugged. "A bit of both. I'm still recovering, you know."

Blaise did know. The pudgy bastard was fortunate to be alive considering the resistance had used him to get into Malfoy Manor. Under normal circumstances Goyle would be dead, but Voldemort's anger was very much one-sided lately, and he needed all hands on deck to attain his prey.

"The Weasley girl is my task now."

Goyle paused in his eating. "Is she? How come? Not that I'm disappointed. She's a guaranteed death sentence."

Blaise chuckled. _More than you know…_ "I offered myself to do it considering her lot twisted Draco so much into a traitor."

"Why not go after Granger then? Out of everyone, she's your best bet to finding Draco."

"True, but as you, surprisingly, alluded to, she's with Draco. And we both know that finding _him_ is damn near impossible. It's better this way."

Goyle let out a cross between a hum of acknowledgement and joy as he bit into his chicken leg. Blaise nearly broke an eye and as he rolled them.

"So, is that all you Floo called me for? To say that you're taking Weasley off my hands?"

"Not quite. I need to know everything you do about her. I want you to take me around that place where you and Draco found her last. Think you can do that? Let's say seven?"

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Seven,"

There went step two.

* * *

The base had been in full force with the rising sun and spent the entire day running about. McGonagall had taken the reins in explaining everything, and since then Hermione had been receiving heated glares from Ron, expressions of disappointment and worry from Harry and Neville, and Fleur too, but more from the side that selfishness had won out on Blaise's part.

The only two people Hermione could stomach being around were Draco and Ginny, and the latter was with the rest of the group making sure they weren't going to be leaving behind anything important. Draco was with Hermione as they secluded themselves in the attic and awaited the return of their owl from Seamus.

"Why can't we just go to the base again?" Draco asked. Whined was more like it. They'd been staring out of the window and watching the sun slowly set for what felt like a millennia. Hermione smiled because he sounded like a child.

"Because Seamus is the keeper of the base," she replied. "Only he can take down the wards when we get there so he has to know that we're on the way."

"You didn't do that with McGonagall," he rightly reminded.

"Different situation. We were pressed for time. We have a bit more to play with this go around. Not to mention that Seamus needs a warning."

"A warning for what?"

Hermione tore her eyes away from the darkening sky and looked at her Deatheater boyfriend to give him a "what do you think?" look. Draco sighed.

"A warning isn't going to help, Hermione. People are always going to shoot spells first and ask questions later where I'm concerned."

"Perhaps," Hermione frowned. "But I'll be right there blocking those spells. You needn't worry about that."

Draco smiled. "I'll never worry about that."

The sun was gone now. It was seven-thirty and the attic was bathed in a darkness that made the mood somber, so Hermione used her wand to lighten up the place. It illuminated Draco's face and he looked equally worried and pensive.

"I'd ask what's wrong, but there's too many options," she grimly joked.

"...This plan you two cooked up," he said. Naturally, she had told him what had happened at Blaise's apartment. "It's only a short-term fix. You know that, don't you?"

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "I know that." She then cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes. "I recognize that look. That's _my_ look. What are you thinking of?"

"A way to fix all of our problems in one clean shot."

Hermione was more than intrigued because she was certain there was nothing that could accomplish that. Just as she was about to ask what he'd come up with a troubling sound reached their ears.

Someone's yell.

Having been on bed rest and fed dozens of meds, Draco was able to keep up with Hermione as she ran from the attic and through the house to a loud commotion.

"What happened? What's going on?" Hermione panted as she stared at everyone.

"It's Ginny," Neville frowned. "She's gone."

"Gone?" Hermione repeated. "What do you mean, _gone?_ "

"It was Herra," Harry told her. "She came and just disapparated with Ginny. No warning or anything. We don't know where they've gone."

At the mention of Herra, Hermione could feel her face betraying what she knew. Luckily Draco pulled her in close to him and he spoke in her ear.

"You didn't say this was part of the plan," Draco hissed.

"It wasn't supposed to be!" Hermione hissed back. "We only discussed the bit about Goyle and the pantries."

"Damn it, Blaise," Draco sighed. "What the hell are you doing?"

* * *

It was almost seven p.m. Herra was a good house elf and managed to get a bit of Ginny's hair just like he told her to. Difficult, he imagined, as Hermione had mentioned in passing that the Order was busy with preparing to leave the base tonight instead of Saturday. Even better.

With the hair in hand, Blaise walked into a private room, a spacious closet really, where he held precious, hard-to-brew potions. He took one in a small vial from off the shelf in front of him and slipped it into his pocket. He took another off the shelf to his left, uncorked it, and put Miss Weasley's hair inside. He snorted loudly when he realized that its color had changed to red like her hair.

"Bottoms up, Zabini," he told himself and gulped it down. He quickly backed out of his potions room and braced himself up against the wall. He didn't need any spasms to go knocking off his potions from shelves. And so he pressed his back against the wall as the Polyjuice Potion took effect and he watched his skin lighten to a white pigment and felt his hair grow longer and reach his shoulders. When the pain was gone he took a deep breath, noting that the exhale sounded feminine. Perfect.

After transfiguring his clothes into something a bit more female, Blaise checked his watch (that now fit loosely around his pale, small wrist), and saw that he only had about five minutes left. He headed over to where he kept his spare wands and took one, making sure to leave his watch behind. As he headed back out to his living room he placed his own wand on his coffee table as well as the potion he had slipped into his pocket. He glanced up at the clock that on the wall which purposefully held the wrong time. A half-an-hour behind, to be precise.

"Here we go," Blaise muttered to himself in the form of Ginny Weasley and apparated to the witch's hideout. He made sure to apparate upstairs and he paused, listening to movement from downstairs.

"Blaise?" Called Goyle. Blaise scoffed. It was a wonder how this man had stayed alive this long. But, if he was going to make this easy, why not take advantage of it?

Blaise didn't say a word. He edged to the doorway of the room he was in and leaned next to it, wand in hand, and waiting until Goyle made it upstairs. The floor creaked under his heavy footsteps as he walked down the hall. Once he was close enough, Blaise purposely stuck his face out.

Goyle could be a quick draw at times, and this was one of these times. Blaise ducked and rolled as Goyle aimed his wand to kill. The jet of green flew overhead as Blaise scurried out of the way and he got up on his feet.

"Expulso!" Blaise shouted. Goyle put up a shield charm and it was a good thing that he had. He was in the hall near the banister and that spell would've knocked him clear over. Instead his back arched over the railing, but he didn't go overboard. Blaise took this chance to run. He hauled his arse down the stairs, looking back and blocking oncoming curses.

Blaise hated this. Running. He could take Goyle on with his eyes closed, but this was Ginny Weasley he was supposed to be impersonating. And no, while she wasn't a runner either, she played smart. Blaise jumped off the last stair and judging by how the floor vibrated, Goyle had jumped just the same.

Blaise whirled around. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Goyle froze up as expected and he felt back onto the floor. Blaise took slow, purposeful strides as he walked up to his fallen comrade and stared down at his solid form. Here came the part that he would come to regret. He may be an efficient killer, but that didn't mean that he was a _gruesome_ killer. He saw no need to extend a person's death. It wasn't the agony that he cared about on the victim's part, no. It was simply a complete waste of his time. However, he wasn't him.

Blaise looked over at a piece of loose debris on the floor, obviously from a ceiling cave-in. He transfigured it into a knife. And with it in his hand, he hovered over Goyle with the dangerous weapon wielded and thrust it into his chest.

"Sorry, mate," Blaise apologized as he gave the knife a turn. He plucked it out roughly, and by the looks of things, the man would bleed to death soon enough.

"Blaise Zabini…" Blaise called his own name for purpose. He dropped the knife and disapparated on the spot. He was back in his own home now, and he was thanking his lucky stars that the Polyjuice Potion had worked out well. He could feel himself getting too big for his out-of-place clothes and quickly changed them back to his own before they either ripped or he suffocated.

It was almost seven, so his half-an-hour late clock read. With his borrowed wand thrown and tucked under his couch, Blaise looked to his right at his coffee table and picked up the potion that he had left there. It was a bottled version of a memory wipe which would clear away everything that had happened within the last half an hour. Very rare, very hard to make, and not to be wasted. He would still remember what he planned, but no recollection of the event would be evident in his mind. A very useful tactic in the case of Legilimency, if he had learned anything from Draco's witch. He only hoped that _if_ Voldemort chose to read his mind, he went no further than thirty minutes. He would be dead otherwise.

Blaise made the bottle disappear as soon as the last drop was done. At seven on the dot he heard a _pop!_ and a fussing woman. He turned around with his wand in hand, making sure not to set an eye on Herra who had brought her, and shot off a spell with no warning.

Ginny dropped to the ground as the unknown spell flew over her and hit the cabinets of the open kitchen that lay behind her. Her heart was erratic as she scrambled out of the way from another oncoming spell, hastening her movements to duck behind the kitchen counter. She was beyond lost, beyond... _everything_ at this point. She had been with the others as they checked room by room for anything important they might mistakenly leave behind when Herra, one of their dedicated house elves, appeared in, grabbed her hand, and disapparated. Ginny hadn't a clue why she'd been whisked away. She'd been stunned when she found herself in Blaise's apartment. And she felt betrayed and completely dumbfounded when spells started firing in her direction.

"Get out here, witch!" Blaise shouted at her.

As much as Ginny wanted to blast him into bits, she didn't have time. She needed to get out of there and back to others. This was _not_ the plan they had discussed. He was a traitor. He had trapped them all!

Blaise rounded the kitchen counter and aimed his wand at Ginny's face.

"I never took you as someone who hid," Blaise sneered.

Ginny used the back of her arm to forcefully nudge Blaise's wand away. It unbalanced him enough that she was able to flick her wand towards his chest.

"Diffindo!"

Blaise's eyes widened in true fear at that as he felt a searing pain come across his chest. Maybe engaging the redhead in an impromptu fight _wasn't_ the best idea. He fell back, dropping his wand and holding his chest as Ginny tried to disapparate but found herself unable to do it.

She ran out into the living room. "Herra! Herra! Get me out of here!"

Herra came just as she was called. Ginny put out her hand for the elf to take but, she wouldn't do it.

"Come on!" Ginny urged. She looked back at Blaise, but if the dampening of his shirt was any indicator, he wasn't getting up any time soon. "We need to go now!"

"Herra is sorry, Miss Ginny," the little house elf frowned. "But only Miss Ginny goes. Herra stays."

Ginny was set to argue, but before she could she was sent back to the base with a snap of Herra's fingers. As for Blaise, he had pre-planned not to listen in on any interaction between Ginny and the house elf. The wound on his chest was confirming that arrangement as he felt himself dying. However, he did have enough strength to do one thing.

He awkwardly crawled over to where he had dropped his wand and steadied it to freeze Herra where she stood. And then he turned to his left arm, pulled up his sleeve, and called the Dark Lord.

There was no turning back now.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Scheming and planning... Yes, Blaise, what I'm Merlin's name are you up to?

-WP

 **Guest:** I hope that this chapter was worth the wait! :)


	23. Too Soon

Blaise was blurry-eyed when he heard a pop of apparation enter his apartment. His chest was wet, his shirt sticky, and he wondered if he was truly going to die. If he was, he hoped it would be because he bled out on the floor rather than be at the mercy of the devil he had just summoned to his home.

Voldemort looked down at his dying follower. He also let his eyes travel to the frozen house elf before returning back to Blaise.

"Bested by a house elf?" He questioned sardonically. Blaise shook his head, or at least he tried to. He could barely move at this point.

"Weasley," he panted. "Ginny…Weasley. Atta… Attacked me."

Voldemort raised a hairless brow. "And she was able to stroll right in, was she? A warded home at that, yes? I find it very hard to believe."

"Draco… My wards… He knows my wards."

"Ah," Voldemort mused, a twinkle of delight in his eye although Blaise couldn't see it. "Convinced your comrade sold you out, are you? A far too convenient ploy," he spat grimly at the end. He then took out his wand and pointed it at Blaise's head. "Let's find out the truth the easy way. Legilimens!"

The easy way? The _easy_ way? Easy for him, but painful for Blaise. Aside from the fact that Voldemort was currently searching his mind, Blaise was weak, and the pain from it had spread to his chest. It felt like he was having a heart attack and he could feel even _more_ blood rushing from his wound. But it needed to be done. He knew Voldemort would never take him at his word. So what was Voldemort seeing right now? He was seeing Blaise talking to Goyle about wanting him to meet him at seven. He was seeing Blaise check the time and seeing seven p.m. He was seeing Ginny dodging his spells and curses at the intruder who had come into his home. He saw Ginny attack him. He heard, rather than saw, Ginny talking to the house elf to get them out of the apartment. And he saw Blaise freeze the house elf before becoming incapacitated by his wound.

All in all, _nothing_ that Voldemort saw implicated Blaise in any way.

Voldemort lowered his wand and stared at Blaise intently. It felt like a millennia before he said something and Blaise wasn't sure what to make of it at first.

"Bested by a witch instead, hm?" Voldemort mused. "You, the same wizard who boasted of his abilities compared to Montague not too long ago. Give me a reason," he dared, leaning down slightly so that he could be face to face with Blaise, "why I shouldn't let you die?"

Blaise took a shallow breath. His vision was nearly non-existent now, so much so that he wasn't sure if he had spoken at all.

"At least...it wasn't...a mudblood."

Cheeky. Daring. Possibly a death sentence. But Voldemort valued intermittent shots of bravery from those he liked best. Considering his deep, throaty chuckle, Blaise assumed that it worked. A moment later the wound on Blaise's chest began to heal. He could breathe again, and his vision was clearer.

"The reason for keeping the house elf?"

Blaise slowly sat up and used his wand to clear away the blood. "The creature is associated with the resistance. It stands to reason that it would know how to find them. And if that's true, we can attack tomorrow."

"Oh, but if it's true, young Zabini, we attack _tonight_ ," Voldemort smiled cruelly. Blaise's panic levels instantly rose and he fought hard not to let it show.

"Tonight?" Blaise repeated as he stood. "I was just attacked by one of their own. Surely they'll be expecting some sort of counter-attack. They'll be prepared."

"And that is why we go in full force," he replied with such unnatural glee that it made Blaise feel uneasy. "Interrogate the elf. I shall summon the others."

* * *

When Ginny appeared back at the base she found it in an uproar. She found them all, Hermione and Draco included, right where she left them, and they were all screaming at each other. Ginny put a finger on either side of her mouth and whistled as loudly as she could to gather their attention.

"Ginny!" Ron breathed as he rushed over to her. "Where the hell did you go?!"

"Never mind that! We have to go now! Zabini just attacked me! We're all in danger-!"

The sound of things breaking downstairs reached their ears. Hermione locked eyes with Ginny and Draco before mouthing one word: pantries.

Hermione was a mess. She hadn't a single clue what was going on. Although she should've cared, Blaise's connection to Ginny's temporary disappearance was the least of her worries. Blaise was early. _One full day early._ He wasn't supposed to lead the Deatheaters to the base until after they had gone. What was Blaise doing?

There were whispers coming from downstairs. The petrified group stared at the end of the hall, right where the stairs would lead to them as soon as the Deatheaters found it.

"Do you guys feel that?" Harry asked. Draco furrowed his brow for a moment, but then yes, he felt it too.

"Anti-apparation wards," Draco confirmed. "Damn it, we're stuck in here."

"No, you aren't," McGonnagall said bravely as she took out her wand. "I'll try my best to hold them off downstairs. Skirt around me as best you can and go beyond the wards."

Hermione's face went white. "Professor… You can't do that. You don't know how many of them are down there and even then-"

"You do what you must to protect others," McGonnagall said curtly. "Surely, you understand that."

Hermione shrank back. She took the moment to look at Draco and he took her hand. Yes, she understood that very well.

"I will go too," Fleur announced. "They took my Theo away. They deserve everything I will throw at them."

"Me three," Neville said. Ron immediately latched onto his arm and tried to pull him back.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Exactly what I was doing in Germany," Neville replied proudly. "Whether you like it or not, we," he pointed to himself, Fleur, and McGonnagall, "are expendable. You guys aren't."

Hermione felt tears springing to her eyes as Neville's inner Gryffindor shined through. And then her voice caught in her throat when she saw Bellatrix reach the top of the stairs.

"Well," Bellatrix smiled, showing all types of yellow. "Hello there, dears."

Draco grabbed Hermione by the waist and threw them against the wall as McGonnagall went up against her former student. More Deatheaters were storming the stairs and Neville and Fleur were doing exactly what they said they would do and tried their best to fend them off.

"Let's go!" Ron shouted. He led the charge, throwing up a shield charm as he went so that no friendly (or unfriendly) fire came their way during McGonnagall and Bellatrix' vicious fight. They hauled their arses down the hall as a barrage of Deatheaters came after them.

"Split up and go!" Harry yelled at them all. It hurt Hermione's heart more than she could describe at having to do just that once they got to the end of the hall. Harry, Ron, and Ginny ran right while Draco and Hermione ran left. They screamed as curses flew left overhead and on either side of their bodies, both of them throwing countercurses and shield charms as they went. They needed to get outside, but there was nowhere to go except back where they came.

Well, there was always the window.

"Get down!" Draco grabbed Hermione's shoulder and pushed her down as he aimed his wand at the window just ahead of him. "Bombarda Maxima!"

The window and the wall was blown to bits. And for some reason, so was the floor. Draco jumped out the way as the floor under him began to cave in. Down the hall bodies were scattered on the ground, but he didn't know how. Not that it mattered. All that mattered to him was the fact that Hermione was still on the crumbling floor and she was falling fast.

"Hermione!" Draco shouted as he threw himself to the floor. He grabbed onto her hands and tried to pull her up while Hermione struggled not to be such a dead weight and lift herself in the process. It was the only way she could see Blaise up ahead, his wand trained on his best friend.

"Draco look out!"

The jet of green light narrowly missed Draco as he twisted his body out of the curse's way. Unfortunately, it caused Hermione's hands to slip from him and she screamed as she fell through the floor and landed on dust and debris.

* * *

Blaise felt an incurable bout of nausea and dread the more Deatheaters appeared in his home. It felt tainted. Unwelcomed. Just...wrong. Everything was working out just as he thought it would with the exception that they were moving too early. He tried _desperately_ to reach for his coin in his pocket to send a warning of what was happening, but he couldn't do it without being seen.

Draco and Hermione were doomed.

Herra was already dead. One quick throw of the Killing Curse and the house elf was a stiff corpse in the middle of Blaise's living room.

"Onward, shall we?" Voldemort announced with an odd sense of glee.

Montague was the only other person who seemed to be matching his euphoria and it burned Blasie with an inner rage. He could make out the word "mudblood" on his lips which made Blaise's mission very clear: keep Montague away from Hermione. It was a two bird with one stone scenario as far as he was concerned. One look at Draco and the Vow would force him to murder his best friend.

Blaise disapparated first. He found himself in an abandoned warehouse that was the filled to the brim with edible supplies. He spotted the ceiling-to-floor cabinets that served very much the purpose of a vanishing cabinet. It was genius, really, to create sister food pantries with vanishing capabilities. Genius, but now a deathtrap, as Deatheater after Deatheater entered a cabinet designated for the base they were travelling to.

Upon closing the cabinet door the transport was instantaneous. Blaise tumbled out of a large room and, like those who were already here, looked up. Voldemort stood in the midst of the growing crowd of his followers and fingered his wand as he gave his precious order.

"Flush out Harry Potter. Kill the rest."

It was like a stampede that travelled throughout the house and Blaise wasted no time in going after them. Some stayed on the bottom floor, but Blaise heard enough movement upstairs to know that that was where he needed to go. And so, up he went, two stairs at a time, but ducked as one of his fellow Deatheaters tumbled down the staircase. Blaise felt him roll over his back and he looked down. Greengrass. He hoped his neck broke.

Blaise had to give Longbottom credit. The man was a fighter. So was his not-so-dainty French counterpart as he watched her use an interesting curse to make one of his comrades choke on his own blood. Impressive.

"You!" Fleur shouted as she turned her wand on him. Blaise blocked her oncoming spell and cast another. She yelped as she was pulled forward and landed neatly into his grasp.

"Where's Granger?" Blaise harshly whispered as she wriggled against him. He could see the indecision in her eyes about whether he could be trusted or not. He understood, yes, but now wasn't the time to hedge. Before he could make quick work of getting her to trust him, he screamed and pushed Fleur away from him as he staggered back and nearly fell down the stairs. His wand arm was in utter agony, and he didn't have to pull up his sleeve to figure out why. His sleeve was practically gone. As for his arm it was badly burned and the pain was _excruciating_.

Blaise sneered in Longbottom's direction, but nothing came of it. He spotted a wisp of blond and brunette hair and a horde of his comrades chasing the blur. Blaise ran after them. He ran straight ahead and turned right, not missing how his old professor was wobbling and holding her side as Bellatrix cackled and readied her wand again.

 _"Bombarda Maxima!"_

Blaise would know Draco's voice anywhere. He came to a messy stop and hurled his body left, his eyes widening as the floor beneath Draco and Hermione began to break up and fall completely apart. Blaise had little time to think if someone was watching him as he raised his wand. He smiled as the spell he had modified and perfected in his spare time, a stronger and more widespread use of Stupefy, knocked out all five Deatheaters within range. When they were down he could properly see Draco on the floor and holding onto Hermione who had fallen through the ground.

It was in that instant that Blaise knew just how an Unbreakable Vow could kill you. It wasn't an instance of dropping dead, no. It was pain. It was pain inside your chest and the feel of your heart stopping. It was air trying to make it to your lungs but it being impossible. He was dying all over again just like in his apartment and felt anguish creep in where death was waiting as he prayed that Draco would move out of the way.

"Draco look out!" Hermione warned.

Thank Merlin he moved. Blaise did have a heightened sense of worry though knowing that Hermione had fallen and that other Deatheaters were down there. _Montague_ was down there, which honestly bothered him a hell of a lot more than Voldemort being there as well. But he couldn't worry about that. He was still inching towards death the longer Draco stayed in his presence and remained alive. Blaise aimed his wand again, prepared to do this dance half-heartedly with the hopes that the blond would actually end up killing _him_ instead. Anything rather than getting offed by Voldemort, indirectly or not.

Although, it seemed that Blaise had nothing to worry about. Rope came from behind him and bound him from the neck down. Excessive, but he could expect nothing less from the feisty little witch.

"Run, Malfoy!" Ginny yelled.

Draco got up from the floor, locked sorry eyes with Blaise and hopped over bodies to make it to Ginny who knocked Blaise unconscious before following him. She was puzzled, though, when she realized that he was heading back towards the stairs where a good chunk of Deatheaters still were.

"Where are you going?!"

"It's Hermione! She fell down below!"

* * *

 _"Split up and go!" Harry yelled at them all._

That was the last thing that Ginny had wanted to do, but it would be harder to kill them all if they weren't together. So, with a heavy heart she ran after her brother and Harry down the hall to the right while Hermione and Draco had curtailed left.

A cursory glance back showed four Deatheaters behind them. Ginny felt a curse fly by her ear and she realized with horror that they we're aiming to kill. No prisoners this time.

"Take him!" One of them shouted. Ginny had no idea what they meant until she saw a Deatheater appear at the end of the hall and grab Harry.

"No!" Ron yelled. He aimed his wand and sent both Harry and his potential captor hurtling towards the back wall. Luckily it would be the Deatheater taking the brunt of it all. Ginny whirled around and threw up a shield as best she could to block oncoming spells when something caused the floor to rumble and the hall to rock.

 _"Bombarda Maxima!"_

"Malfoy," Ginny breathed.

The temporary distraction of the building's sway was enough to distract the Deatheaters so that Harry and Ron could raise their wands to the ceiling. It cracked and moaned before breaking and sending hard pieces of cement and wood onto their heads. It had barely finished falling before Ginny leaped over the debris and bodies to go down towards the other end of the hall.

"Ginny!" She heard Harry call, but she merely shouted back for them to get out. She reached the other hall and skidded when she saw Blaise, the bane of her existence, attacking Draco. Was it for real or because of the Vow? She supposed it didn't matter. Ginny would've attacked him anyway.

"Incarcerous!"

The binds were a much, but _nothing_ was excessive during war.

"Run, Malfoy!" Ginny yelled.

Draco got up from the floor with sloppy, yet quick movements and skirted past her. Ginny had intended on taking him back where she'd been with Harry and Ron, perhaps up to the attic, but he was heading towards the thick of the fight they had originally fled from.

"Where are you going?!"

"It's Hermione! She fell down below!"

Despite the chaos and urgency, Ginny did a slow blink. It had just struck her awareness that Hermione wasn't with him. Her panic escalated as she ran behind Draco. She had her wand ready, but she quickly realized that she didn't need it. Draco was like a man possessed. He was also a killer.

Draco had no Deatheater legacy. Not like Blaise. With Blaise you knew you were dead. With Draco, the fear you had was because of where his loyalty belonged, nothing else. However, after seeing this man seamlessly slit throats as he went, cast curses that crippled people, and outright Avada people without a second thought, Ginny finally saw it. The Deatheater in him. Had that always been inside? Or was it because he wanted Hermione back?

Draco cleared the stairs with a blast and took two, three steps at a time down.

"Get out of here," Draco ordered once they got the bottom stairs. Ginny didn't have time to protest. His next spell pushed her through the open front door and she grunted as she fell onto the grass. She didn't want to leave, but Ron's outstretched arms were pulling her up.

Ginny was more than surprised to find him there with her, not to mention _alone_. She felt sick. "Where's Harry?"

Ron gulped and shook his head. "Inside."

* * *

 _"Get down!"_

Hermione was forced down the ground by Draco's hand and she covered her hands over her head as he aimed for the window ahead of him.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

The noise was deafening. Hermione's hands were getting cut by wood and glass, but that was a minute problem compared to what was happening with the floor. It felt...odd. It wasn't stable. It was... _breaking?_

Hermione's arms flailed wildly as the floor gave way and she began falling into it. She blindly tried to cling to what was left of the floor when all it was were splinters digging deep under her nails and causing her fingers to bleed.

"Hermione!" Draco shouted. He threw himself to the ground and latched onto her hands and then arms. Hermione was holding onto him for dear life, her hands bloodying up his sleeves. Her legs were dangling and the lower half of her body was weighing her down, but Draco was slowly pulling her up. It was as her waist was just over the floor that she could see Blaise. He looked torn, conflicted, and severely in pain, but most of all sorry.

"Draco look out!" Hermione shouted.

Draco heeded her warning but it came at a price. Hermione slipped from him and she fell below the floor onto broken floorboards and cement. She had landed awkwardly onto her left leg, her whole left side taking the brunt of her injuries. And although she wasn't moving, all she could feel was pain. Her leg was probably broken. Her ribs, too, without question. Maybe her arm? Her left temple felt wet and even though she didn't quite feel her head hitting on the debris below, she must have. Hermione shakily raised her right arm, trying to use it as a crutch to move her body out of plain sight. Not necessarily a wise choice considering her bodily damage, but from what she could see right now, it was better to aggravate her injuries than to end up dead.

The fight had trickled downstairs. Neville and Fleur were still doing their best to fight off who they could. They were battered for sure, but still holding on. Harry was there too, and Hermione tried to find Ron and Ginny but they were nowhere to be seen. Surely they couldn't be dead, right?

"Oh, look, my favorite mudblood."

The very definition of "triggered" wracked Hermione's body. She only had to hear Montague's voice for dread to fill every inch of her. She couldn't help her shake nor her paralysis. She could feel his hands on her and they weren't even there. Not yet, anyway. Montague was using his wand to clear away the chaos from the floor so that he could walk towards her. She had lost her wand in her fall, and if she screamed just who would hear her? Other yells, screams, deadly curses, and things breaking would obscure any shout she gave. And yet even with all of that, her would be rapist's whisper was still louder than the whirlwind beyond them.

"Shall we start over?"

Hermione felt defeated as tears sprang to her eyes and began to drop, but it all stopped at once when Montague was hurled through the air and making a dent in the wooden wall to her right.

"You touched my witch," Draco snarled as he walked down the hall with a menacing stride. He was in front of Montague now, the man completely disoriented from the throw. He could kill him easily, but that's not what he wanted. He wanted to _torture_ him. He wanted to make his screams echo off the walls due to endless agony. To suffer every pain he made Hermione go through. _And then some._

"Draco, don't."

Hermione's frail voice shook Draco from his concentration. That was the first time that he truly noticed her, and she looked broken.

"We don't have time," she said with a grunt. "We need to leave."

Draco looked back at Montague. He looked to his left and saw the tail end of Voldemort's cloak and that rattled him enough to realize that Hermione was right. With his gaze back onto Montague he knew that his torture would have to wait. Still with the anger that remained Draco levitated a batch of debris full of jagged cement and sharp splintered wood and threw it with an unnatural force in Montague's direction.

The man would look like a battered mess after that and Hermione approved. Draco stuck his wand between his teeth and tried to pick Hermione up, his chest plummeting at hearing her shriek from the slightest touch.

"I'm sorry," he apologized as he scooped her up so that her undamaged right side of her body was resting against his, "but you're going to have to bear it." His wand dropped from his mouth and onto her lap. "Blast it."

The "it" was the wall behind them. They still needed to get outside to disapparate, and they needed to go no matter who they were leaving behind. Hermione picked up the wand as best she could and aimed it. However, she didn't get her spell out. She paused and rightly so.

" _Please_ , tell me that I didn't just hear what I _thought_ I heard..." Hermione pleaded, her face paling by the second. Draco couldn't answer. He was more preoccupied with Voldemort's contented hiss, indicating that yes, she had heard Harry giving himself up quite clearly.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I was going to wait until the weekend, but screw it. You've waited long enough! I hope that this was worth the wait. Thanks so much for being patient with me :). AND, if you're in the US, Happy Thanksgiving!

-WP


	24. Baggage

"Split up and go!" Harry yelled at them all.

Harry took the lead on the sprint and tore his eyes away from his best friend when he saw her and Draco turn left when they came to the end of the hall. He, Ron, and Ginny went right with Deatheaters on their tail.

"Take him!" One of the Deatheaters shouted. Harry figured out what that command was supposed to mean when a Deatheater apparated directly in front of him. He tried to stop himself, but it was hard mid run, and he stumbled into the man's grasp.

"No!" He heard Ron yell, and then a spell filled the air that caused both Harry and the Deatheater to be thrown straight towards the wall. It was such a hard force that it knocked his potential capture out as they both fell to the floor with an awful thud. Harry landed on his back, watching the word upside down as Ron ran to his aide, and as Ginny, bless her brave and terrifyingly strong fighter's spirit put up a shield to block spells that were being thrown in their direction.

As Ron got him up to the floor, the two of them wobbled where they stood as the floor and hall shook. And then, somewhere in the distance at the opposite end of the hall, a loud " _Bombarda Maxima!_ " was heard. Both the shout and the earthquake-like shake had caught the remainder of the Deatheaters' attention and that was just what they needed. Harry and Ron shared a look before aiming their wands towards the ceiling and causing it to collapse. It had the desired effect as they watched their enemies fall under the weight of large chunks of cement. However, it also gave them heart attacks as Ginny ran through the collapse with very little regard to her own life.

"Ginny!" Harry shouted, but she was too far gone.

"We have to go after her," Ron said urgently. "She's going to get herself killed!"

" _Everyone's_ going to be killed at this rate," Harry groaned aloud. He was panicking. He was completely on edge just knowing what was happening here in the house. To his friends. He turned to Ron who was pleading with him with wide eyes. And that's when he knew what he had to do. "I'm sorry, Ron."

Ron furrowed his brow before finding himself at the receiving end of a strong _Expluso!_ from his best friend. The spell knocked him clean off his arse and not just against the wall, but through it. Ron found himself falling through the air, fully preparing himself to have the hard ground meet him and breaking a bone or two. However, he felt cushion under him as he landed on the ground, and focused his eyes on the wide hole his flight had caused to find Harry with his wand pointed at him.

Harry turned away from the hole he had made and faced the hall. With a deep swallow he ran. He hopped over bodies and turned left, expressing his surprise at the corpses that lay there. Throats were cut. Massive bleed-outs… It was messy. Someone had laid waste to a trail of Deatheaters along this path and it made him both glad and shaken. Of course, nothing shook him more than seeing Professor McGonagall among the lifeless forms. But he couldn't focus on that. Harry could hear the rest of the fight happening downstairs. When he reached the bottom he found the remainder of the those still left standing. Neville was unfairly dealing with a two on one situation while Fleur was being beaten back by Bellatrix.

Harry didn't bother to hide himself nor did he even attempt to fight. He just walked clear into the open, spells and curses side-sweeping him as he shouted at the top of his lungs, "STOP!"

And yes, the fighting did stop. The crowded pairs and threesomes of fighters halted their movements and as everything cleared Voldemort was found in the middle of the room.

"You have me, Tom," Harry swallowed, standing his ground although he was bloody terrified. "The fighting can stop right here, right now. It'll just be you and me."

Voldemort chuckled, his wand sliding between his fingers in hungry anticipation. "Always so noble, Harry. Brave, yet foolish. Let's begin."

* * *

The moment they had heard Harry speak, Draco had slowly made his way towards the end of the hall so that they could properly see what was happening. It was from an awkward angle so that they could stay out of sight, but Hermione and Draco could see Harry and Voldemort, ready to hash it out for everyone to have an up-close and personal viewing.

"Draco," Hermione addressed, taking a deep breath as she curled her hand around his wand tighter. "I need you to be my legs. Can you do that?"

Draco furrowed his brow for a moment, but then he noticed his girlfriend's fierce look of determination and it all clicked. He then laughed and shook his head. "You're absolutely insane. Get ready."

This could end badly, Hermione knew, but she refused to let Harry do this. Not when Voldemort had the upper hand with at least ten Deathears still standing. And so, Draco found his feet moving. He wasn't walking, per se, but he wasn't running either. He was moving at a brisk pace and turning where he needed to so that Hermione could take out as many Deatheaters as she could with her good arm.

Fleur and Neville got the memo and began turning their wands not just on Deatheaters, but walls, ceilings, and knicknacks. They didn't need to win. They just needed a big enough distraction so that they could get out of the house.

Voldemort, needless to say, was not pleased. Even with the new chaos surrounding him Harry could see the anger in his eyes. And his wand got moving. Harry readied himself to run and to deflect whatever spell was coming his way. Unfortunately, this was not a spell that he could shield.

"GET OUTSIDE!" Harry shouted.

Draco turned in time to see a massive fireball erupting from Voldemort's wand. The blond had never ran faster in his life and even then he could feel his right leg burning in agony as he leaped with Hermione in his arms out the front door. Hermione rolled from him like a ragdoll and she screamed in pain as she hit the ground.

"We've got you!" Ginny said as she helped to gather Hermione into Ron's arms.

Fleur had quickly used a spell to douse Draco's leg with water and Neville hoisted him up despite his own injuries with Harry's aid. The house just behind them was nothing but smoke and flames as Deatheaters fled from the scene.

"Blaise," Draco breathed, but he could do nothing. He heard Fleur shout that they had to go and soon the group were huddled together and disapparating with one loud _pop!_

The group landed on hardwood floor which did nothing for their injuries. Their grunts and groans were harmonious, but Fleur's scream had outmatched it all. Everyone turned to her and followed where her finger pointed. None of them had realized that there was a dead body in the middle of the foyer.

"Seamus," Neville breathed as he crawled over to his friend. It wasn't a particularly messy death. Bruised like the fight had been punches rather spells, culminating in a broken neck if the way his head was twisted was anything to go by. And judging by his color, he'd been dead for a while, but not so long as to start...rotting.

"How many of you are left?" Draco asked. It was a simple question. An honest question. But even then, it set Ron off something terrible and he rounded on him instantly.

"How the hell should we know?" Ron angrily questioned him. He had followed Neville's movements and stood over Seamus, eventually wiping away a tear and turned around. "We've all been scattered for months. Forced to separate, unable to see each other, _for months_. You and your lot have been the ones hunting us. Why don't _you_ tell me how many of us you've yet to slaughter."

Draco snarled. Yes, his leg was damaged, but he managed to lift himself off the floor and awkwardly limp over to the redhead so that they were nearly nose to nose. "Your friend's dead and you're pissed. I get it. But since _I'm_ not the one who offed him, get that stick out of your arse when you talk to me."

"Get _out_ of my face, Malfoy."

"Make me."

"That's enough, you two!" Ginny said as she pushed her way between them. "We're all we've got and we can't afford to be at each other's throats, so stand down."

"How can you defend him?" Ron sniped at his sister. "Zabini-!"

"Isn't Malfoy," Ginny finished. "And if you're going to be mad at someone, direct it at the right person."

It was clear that Ron wanted to argue more, but he couldn't fight his sister's logic. He let out an aggravated shout and went back to Seamus. He would have to be buried after all. Draco gave Ginny a gentle nod before turning around to his severely injured witch who was still on the floor.

"Potter, get her up, will you?" Draco asked. "I can't do it with my leg."

Harry nodded and went over to Hermione who's cry of pain sounded ten times louder in the quiet of the house. Draco attempted to limp after the pair but found himself being aided by both Ginny and Fleur.

This base was small. The foyer shared the space with a dining room table and beyond that to the left was the kitchen. Up the stairs to the left of where they stood brought them to a hall on their right and a bedroom on their left. That was the room they entered which held three beds, one up against each wall. Harry gently set Hermione down on the one in front of him while Draco was eased into a sitting position on the bed to their right.

Fleur, despite bleeding from several places, brought her attention to Hermione. "Where does it 'urt?"

"Can I say everywhere?" Hermione poorly joked. "I fell from the second floor into my left side. Everything hurts."

"I will need to see if anything is broken," she said eyed Harry from her periphery before clearing her throat and saying, "'Arry, do you know where Seamus might 'ave kept the medical supplies?"

"I'll find out," Harry said as he aimed his wand, but Fleur stopped him.

"Best to do it the muggle way, wouldn't you agree? Calling for medical supplies may send them flying to us one item at a time."

"I don't think-"

"It's better to manually look."

Harry scratched his head, narrowed his eyes at her earnestness, but relented anyway. He left the bedroom with one last look at the group and began his search. Once he was gone Fleur turned to Draco, Hermione, and Ginny.

"Ron thinks Blaise set us up," she said with a cross of her arms. "'E attacked Ginny. But when 'e found me during the fight 'e was trying 'is 'ardest to find Draco. To protect 'im. So? Whose side is 'e on?"

"Ours," Draco and Hermione said in unison, although Ginny snorted.

"Yes, yours, but does that include the rest of us?" Ginny commented. "He could've killed me back at his apartment."

"'Could' being the important word," Draco pointed out. "Blaise isn't an amateur. If he wanted you dead, you would be. Whatever happened tonight he had to have planned for a reason."

"Including You-Know-Who's _early_ visit?"

"Maybe, maybe not. It would be for him to tell, if he's alright that is," he added bitterly. Hermione picked up on his tone and tried her best to catch his eye.

"What do you mean? Did he get hurt?"

Draco's shrugged. "I don't know. Last I saw him he was bound by the redhead here," he gestured to Ginny. "I would hope that he broke out of it before the house went up in smoke."

Before anyone could say anything to that Harry was back in the room with the medical supplies that Fleur had asked for. He looked over at everyone once before handing them over, clearly unnerved that he had been excluded from whatever conversation had just taken place.

"Where are Ron and Neville?" Ginny asked.

"Backyard," Harry replied. "I told them to come up to this room when they were done. We need to talk about finding somewhere to go."

Draco's brow quirked upwards. "Go? What's wrong with here?"

"Seamus is dead. _That's_ what's wrong with here. It means that a Deatheater knows where this base is and could come back."

"Harry, I really doubt that," Hermione said, grimacing every time Fleur probed her body for the depth of her bodily damage. "Why would a Deatheater go back to a place where they've already…'taken care of things?'"

"For the same reason why _we're_ here: no other options." It was clear that Harry's words had struck everyone. He wished the severity of it hadn't, but he plowed on because it needed to be said. "We're here because we had nowhere else to go. What do you think Deatheaters are going to do to find us? They're going to retrace their steps and I can guarantee you that they'll come here again. Do you want a repeat of what just happened? To lose another friend? We just lost McGonagall for Merlin's sake."

Hermione's face dropped. By her reaction, obviously she didn't know, and when Harry realized it he immediately regretted having dropped a bomb like that.

"I'm sorry," he cleared his throat. Hermione's eyes had welled with tears and it wasn't from the pain of having Fleur jam her wand into her possibly broken ribs.

"Are you thinking of splitting up again?" Ginny asked, also sporting tears of her own. Harry sighed and let his hands run and stick in his hair. He may have even been pulling it.

"I don't know. We were getting picked off when we were apart."

"Then we are better together," Fleur said definitively. "We just need to find a place where we can all stay and be safe."

"Well," Ginny started tentatively. Actually, it was begrudgingly. "I have an idea, but," she turned to Draco. "It all depends on whether your pain in the arse friend is alive or not."

* * *

Blaise smelled like he smoked those muggle stick things twenty times a day. As well he should. He had spent a considerable amount of time trying to break free of his binds before _and after_ the house had been enveloped in fire. Unfortunate, as he was sure that his lungs were worse for wear with the thick black smoke that had encircled him quickly. Lucky, however, when the flames reached the second floor and he used his wit to let the fire burn his ropes off. Did he catch on fire? A little bit. His wand had somehow stayed close and had not become kindling wood. He used it to out the flames and get himself out of the house.

Once outside, he and whatever Deatheaters weren't dead had been subject to random acts of violence by their overlord. Blaise, unlike his counterparts, had gotten off with fewer injuries. He was confused as to why, but wouldn't dare question it. Instead, he went home to soak in the longest bath he could possibly take. Long enough to make his skin wrinkly and for the water to turn cold.

"You're alive."

Blaise had apparated into the middle of his living room, facing his fireplace, but turned to his left towards the stairs and to the familiar voice who sounded indecisive about his status of life. Considering that she had very nearly killed him a few hours ago he wasn't surprised.

Ginny had arrived at Deatheater's apartment several hours ago when it was still dark outside. Harry had been right. They couldn't stay at the base, but not because whoever had found Seamus could find the base again. It was because their enemies could use their pantries to find _any_ of their bases. It was something that, it pained her to say, neither she, Hermione, nor Blaise had thought about. Now she was in Blaise's home, the sun was rising, and she got up from the stairs she had been sitting once he had faced her.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't slit your chest back open."

Blaise huffed and eyed her up and down as he crossed his arms. "You're upset."

"Upset? _Upset?!_ You attacked us! You attacked _me!_ You evil bastard!"

Ginny had walked over, her hand raised to slap him, but Blaise caught it within an inch of his face.

"Ease yourself there, Red," he sneered at her. "I attacked you because I had to."

"You _had_ to?" Ginny fumed. "You attacked us because you had to?"

" _You_ ," Blaise reiterated. "I attacked _you_ because I had to. As for everything else that happened…" He sighed and briefly closed his eyes. "We were supposed to go when you lot were all gone, just like we planned. It's not my fault that the Dark Lord changed things."

"And you couldn't have sent a message to warn us?"

"No," Blaise replied flatly and finally let Ginny's hand go. He walked away from her and plopped himself down onto his couch. "I wanted to, but I couldn't. Happy now?"

Ginny didn't say anything. She only continued to glare at him until it lessened to a simple disapproving look.

"Are Draco and Granger alright?"

"Yes," she answered, poorly masking her surprise that he also inquired about Hermione's care. "They're banged up a bit, but fine overall."

Blaise nodded. "Good."

"You-Know-Who has access to us now," Ginny rushed in her words. Blaise looked at her from a side angle as she added, "You have to hide us."

Blaise's brows shot so far up his head that they almost disappeared. " _I_ have to do _what?_ "

"You heard me. We're compromised now that he knows about our pantries. Because of that we need somewhere You-Know-Who won't think to look. Somewhere fortified."

"And you want _me_ to do that for you?" Blaise questioned. Then he laughed and rose from his couch. "You, love, have one active imagination if you think I'm going to do that."

"Oh, I know you will," Ginny said with a nod. "In case you've forgotten, I stopped you from killing Malfoy last night. You're in my debt now, Zabini, and it's time to pay up."

"Nice try, but my loyalties don't lie with you," Blaise snorted. He brushed past her shoulder and headed towards his stairs. "Find your own damn place to hide."

Ginny watched him leave. She smiled at his back and waited until his foot had reached the stairs to say, "Alright, we will. I just hope that you're not too upset if Malfoy winds up dead."

Just as she thought it would, her statement caused Blaise to halt his movements. He turned slowly.

"Excuse me?"

Here Ginny grinned. "Let me lay out the facts for you, Zabini. Your boss wants Malfoy dead. He also wants the rest of us dead. Malfoy is hiding out with us. How hard do you think he'll come looking? Without a proper hiding place he _will_ find out wherever we are. He'll find Malfoy. And then he'll kill him. Do you want that?"

Blaise was seething. And beneath all that rage waiting to spill over he was also thinking. After countless seconds he groaned aloud. Yelled, was more like it.

"Damn bitch, I swear."

Ginny shrugged off the insult. "Don't blame me because I know what buttons to press."

"Don't get so cocky," he spat at her. "I'll hide Draco and Granger, but that's all. The rest of you will have to fend for yourself."

Ginny swore angrily. "So selfish! How could you do readily take them in but show absolutely _no_ care for the rest of us?!"

"Why should I care about any of you?!" Blaise shouted her. "Why don't I give me _you_ some facts, hmm? I care about very little if it has nothing to do with me. I'm selfish? Hell yes, I am, and I'll admit that every time. But if, of the very few cares I have in this world involve that idiot pair and no one else, then so be it."

Ginny's mouth would've hung open had she not better control. The sheer conviction this man had. Selfish, yes. But also oddly...loyal? She defiantly raised her chin

"Fine. You have morals, even if they're twisted. But let me try something else. We both know that Malfoy won't go anywhere without Hermione. And as for Hermione, she won't go anywhere without _us._ You care about her so much? You'd better learn to accept her baggage. You're hiding us _all_ , Zabini, whether you like it or not."

Blaise was itching, terribly so, to take out his wand, aim it directly at her heart and watch her drop dead. It would solve _so_ much of his problems. However, he didn't do it, and he voiced his disappointment.

"I wish I could kill you."

Ginny looked him up and down and goaded him. "What's stopping you?"

"What, you don't know?" Blaise teased. "That bloody brunette and her damn baggage."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Hello! I hope that this chapter was worth the wait. I'm curious as to your thoughts on Blaise. Now, as much as I love Dramione (of course!) Blaise is just...there's something about him that's crazy complicated. I love his sense of "loyalty," but only to those who matter to him. And that brings up the lovely point that it's not just Draco he cares about. It's Hermione too. Ginny better thank her because honestly? He'd probably leave them all to die if it wasn't for her 0_0

Thanks so much for reading & reviewing!

-WP


	25. No Room for Pansies

"Do you think Ginny will be able to convince Blaise to hide us?" Hermione asked.

"She doesn't need to convince him about us," Draco answered her. "It's the rest of your lot that will be the kicker. I didn't want to admit it, but she's right. Not counting ourselves, Blaise could let everyone die and not lose a wink of sleep."

Hermione frowned deeply. Rather recently she had developed a rather high liking towards Blaise. Yes, he had some questionable qualities about him that made her skin crawl. However, underneath that was a man who truly cared about other people's well being. _Selective_ people's well being, she had to remind herself, and then she frowned even further than she thought possible.

"Your face will stick like that," Draco told her as he nuzzled her neck.

Hermione chuckled, and she tried her hardest not to flinch or shrink away with the feel of him so close. Her ordeal with Montague was _not_ some distant memory. Factor in the fact that she had seen him last night and it was safe to say that close contact was not her best friend at the moment. Regardless, she didn't want her traumatic experience to dictate every future action she had with Draco. Hermione would have to ease herself into his touch, she knew, but this was a start.

Not tonight, though. That ceiling-to-floor drop had done a number on her and she needed to recover properly. There had been two broken ribs _and_ her left arm, but surprisingly only a fractured bone in her leg. Fleur had been ecstatic to find some Skele-Repair among Seamus' safety kit and she had made Hermione drink a decent gulpful. It was the reason why she had yet to sleep although it was now daybreak. It was a painful process to repair bones just as much as it was to grow them back.

"Draco?"

"Yes,"

"Do you know who it was that had Seamus as a target?"

It was Draco's turn for his lips to tug downwards at that. He sighed and the action ruffled the little hairs on the back of Hermione's neck.

"It wasn't anyone in my age range for sure," he replied. "I usually remember their tasks pretty clearly."

Hermione shuddered. "'Tasks…' Such a terrible thing to call them. They were people. They were my friends. They-"

"I know, and I'm sorry," Draco said quickly. Out of habit he raised his arm to gently lay it around her waist, to comfort her, but he stopped himself and grudgingly set it back down. He cleared his throat and awkwardly said, "It's just what he called them…"

Hermione looked to her right and into Draco's face. She smiled weakly and used her good arm to settle it over his. "I know that. I'm not mad at you for it. I just hate that another friend is gone. You asked Ron how many of us are left. It's not very many. George may still be alive. Probably Aberforth. I haven't a clue about Ernie or Cho or Hannah. We're just… We're all so scattered."

"Just like the Dark Lord wanted," Draco confirmed. "And that's exactly why we need to repay him for it."

Hermione didn't have to be looking at him to know that he had a mischievous plan in mind. His tone of voice told her that as well as his clenched fist at his side.

"Is this the plan you were talking about before we got attacked?"

"Yes. It's actually an unformulated plan that we came up with a little while back when we were plotting Rabastan's death," Draco smiled at the memory. "As you said back then, the Dark Lord has a line of soldiers. We need to get rid of them just like with Rabastan."

"Extermination…" Hermione said after a few passing seconds, the conversation she and Draco had had slowly coming back.

"That's right," he nodded. "Your side is losing because he weakened you. He couldn't take you as a group, but when you're alone you're easy targets. His followers are just the same. Except there'll be no luring. That takes too much time and too much plotting. We should go to them instead."

"That still takes plotting and planning," Hermione countered. "First and foremost we need to know where they live, their habits,-"

"Wards they like to use?" Draco finished with a smile. He released a happy breath and squeezed her hand. "Sometimes I think you forget that I'm a Deatheater, defected or not. I know these people, Hermione. Consider me your... Deatheater directory."

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant this was. Hermione opened her mouth to say just that when there was a knock on their bedroom door.

"Hermione? Malfoy?" Ginny called. "Are you both decent in there?"

Draco, ever the troublemaker, called back, "What do you call 'decent?'"

Hermione laughed and shushed him before addressing Ginny through the door. "Never you mind him, Gin. You can come in."

Despite the invitation, Ginny still opened the door cautiously until she realized that it was safe to enter. "We've got a place to stay. _All_ of us."

Draco's face was a true expression of surprise. "Really? That's...impressive. What did you say to him?"

Ginny grinned smugly and crossed her arms. "I'm good at bargaining. We'll have to go now so Zabini says. I already woke the others. Harry and Neville are on their way to help the both of you downstairs so we can all Floo. With most of us injured, we shouldn't be apparating anyway."

"True," Hermione nodded. "None of us need to risk splinching."

"Everyone's already ready to go?" Draco asked incredulously. "Just like that they're going to happily skip on over to one of Blaise's houses?"

At that Ginny's face turned as red as her hair and Hermione stared at her oddly.

"Gin, what did you tell them?"

"I...might have told them that Malfoy had a property that was untraceable and that You-Know-Who knew nothing of. It's _technically_ only a third of a lie since it belongs to Zabini instead."

"I stand corrected," Draco snorted. "They're going to happily skip on over to one of 'my' houses? Merlin, you share a few life or death situations with people and suddenly you're all chums…"

Ginny laughed. "Yeah, well, Hermione trusts you and that's good enough for them. We can deal with the backlash of my statement _after_ we get out of here."

"You guys ready?" Neville asked, interrupting their conversation. After a decent night's sleep his wounds were more apparent. A healing black eye, swollen lip, and bruised skin with cuts and scratches all over.

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "We can go."

Draco swung his legs over (one with more difficulty) and Neville came over to help him off the bed and carry half of his weight. Harry was delicate with Hermione and was quite happy that she only grunted instead of screamed when he picked her up. The four of them left the room and carefully made it downstairs. Draco hadn't remembered seeing a fireplace in the house before, but it had been blocked by view of the dining table. Ron and Fleur had been talking in the meanwhile, Seamus' safety kit on the floor between them. They looked over when they heard the rest of the group coming.

"Oh, 'Ermione, you look so much better!" Fleur squealed in delight. "I will work on you when we get to the next 'ouse. Another swallow of the Skele-Repair should finish you up and then the muscle aches will 'ave to disappear on their own."

"Great…" Hermione sarcastically cheered. "Another set of hours of bone-fixing torture."

"Ahem," Harry cleared his throat as he looked down at her. "Arm? No bones? I had it worse, alright?"

Hermione rolled her eyes while everyone got a good smile and snicker at that. While they all prepared themselves to go, Fleur caught Ginny's eye and nodded before making sure to Floo first. Safety kit in hand, she walked out of a larger than life fireplace into a room surrounded by books. Aside from that was a three-seater couch to the right and up ahead was Blaise leaning against the edge of a large desk.

Fleur reached into a side pocket of the safety kit and pulled out a knife as she headed over to Blaise. "Give me your 'and."

" _For what?_ " Blaise said in alarm as he stood erect. Fleur huffed.

"Do you want to kill your best friend?" She asked rhetorically. She placed the kit on the desk and with her now free hand fished out a potion bottle that she uncorked with her teeth. "This will mask Malfoy from you, but it needs your blood. 'Urry before 'e comes."

For all Blaise knew this could be poison, but he gave her his hand anyway as the fireplace ignited. His finger was cut by the time Ginny came through. Blood into the potion as Ron came next. Potion down the throat as an argument brewed between brother and sister and Harry carrying Hermione appeared. Neville was last as he supported a brunet man with blue eyes.

"Hell," Blaise commented. "You're one ugly bloke when you're not a blond."

"At least I have an excuse," Draco bit back. Even his voice was different.

"Who's side are you on, Ginny?!" Ron chided with his sister. "You lied to us! Agreeing to stay when it was Malfoy's place was one thing, but _his?_ I'd rather die."

Blaise shrugged. "Drop dead then,"

" _Blaise,_ " Hermione shook her head. "Play nice."

"Oh, well of course, if you say so," Blaise answered with nothing less than ten folds of sarcasm. He sighed deeply, contemplating every insane action he'd taken ever since Draco dropped the bomb on him and headed towards the door. "Potter, Longbottom, follow me. I already have Granger and that monstrosity's room set up. The rest of you can pick a room on your own."

Harry and Neville glanced at each other before following his orders and leaving the room after him. Once they were all gone, Ron rounded on his sister yet again, this time in a calmer tone lest he get skewered by the witch.

"Ginny, I know that we're trusting Malfoy because of Hermione, but Zabini too? Need I remind you that he attacked you last night?"

"I know."

"And he attacked _all of us._ "

"That was always the plan."

"Not the original one!"

"When does _any_ plan properly pan out in war?" Ginny exasperatedly groaned out. She took a deep breath and shook her head as she continued, "Look, I don't like the situation either. Zabini is wishy-washy at best and someone you can't fully trust is a danger. But as long as Hermione and Malfoy are onboard with him, then we don't have a choice but to play along. The only good thing about any of this is that he cares about them _deeply._ And that...well, that keeps us safe. Sort of."

"Sort of," Ron scoffed. "This is going to be a bloody nightmare."

"Are you two finished?"

Ron and Ginny turned. They had completely forgotten that Fleur was in the room. Tired and red-faced they both nodded and she smiled.

"Good. Let's get out of 'ere and find bedrooms. Then a kitchen," she added as she headed towards the door. "I'm starving."

* * *

"You rogue bastard," Draco accused. Not angrily. Just a simple statement as he sat up against the bed's headboard with his leg propped. Hermione was beside him and only slightly elevated so as not to aggravate her ribs. Blaise had just finished explaining to them the proactive measures he had taken concerning Ginny, Goyle, and the dead house elf Hera. Needless to say, it was an incredible ordeal.

"I swear that you are the craziest person I've ever known," Draco continued in a huff.

Blaise tilted his head with both brows raised into his hairline. "Crazier than the woman who coerced her friends into raiding the Dark Lord's headquarters? Sure. _I'm_ the mad one here."

" _Regardless,_ " Hermione said strongly to interrupt them. "At least we made it out of there. I wish that it had been under better circumstances," she added with a frown, thinking immediately of Professor McGonnagall, "but unfortunately war is fraught with death. Hey, Blaise, I should've thought of this sooner, but how do you think us being here will affect your Vow?"

"Considering that I'm not on the verge of a heart attack right now, I think I'm fine. The wording was specific, yet ambiguous at the same time. I can work around it."

"Good," Hermione nodded. "Well, that's one concern out of the way. The next is formulating a plan."

"Oh, that can't be good," Blaise shook his head. "You and your plans scare the hell out of me."

"Actually, it was Draco's,"

Blaise snorted and crossed his arms. "Even worse, but go on."

"We want to target to target the Deatheaters."

"You tried that, remember? With Rabastan? We all know how that catastrophe worked out."

"That was lure, though," Draco reminded. "This, on the other hand, will literally be a target. There's a reason why the Dark Lord wanted to take out Order members one by one. It was a smart ploy, and we should adopt it."

Blaise ran a hand over his chin and muttered a soft "hmm." "The Dark Lord is powerful on his own, but if his minions got picked off it would certainly help. There's still one major problem though."

Hermione's face fell and immediately laced with worry. "What problem?"

"Your friends," Blaise said simply. "We talked about the difference between offensive and defensive killing, remember? Forgive me, but I can count three members of your party who'd be too much of a pansy to do what they needed to do."

"I think you're underestimating my friends."

"And I think you're being too optimistic. What you're proposing is cold-blooded. It's outright murder, albeit for good reasons. Bring up the idea to your lot if you want, but be prepared if it's just you two, that Veela, and that fiesty little redhead."

"Then we'll deal with what we have," Draco said firmly. "I'd rather have those who are fully onboard than ones who'll cop out along the way."

"That good for you?" Blaise pointedly asked Hermione. It wasn't, if she was honest, but this was an either you're in or you're out situation.

And so, Hermione bit the inside of her jaw and regrettably nodded. Draco took note of her hesitancy and grabbed her hand.

"If it makes you better, whatever happens with your friends, I'm going after Montague first."

"Not without me your not," Blaise popped up quickly. Hermione snapped her gaze to him out of pure surprise and he merely shrugged. "I don't like him."

Hermione smiled. "Right. I'm sure you don't. Also, thank you."

Blaise _could not_ have rolled his eyes harder. However, instead of commenting any further he decided to leave the couple alone and head to his favorite room. It was six or so doors down the hall and it had nothing but liquor, two long couches, and an armchair.

It was Sunday, and it was Voldemort's weekly meeting with his followers. Although not wise to go there drunk, with the utter failure that was last night Blaise would be better off numb. He had gone through a quarter of one of his bottles before the door opened and a ray of red assaulted his vision.

"Sorry," Ginny mumbled. "This place is so bloody huge that I can't find anything."

"And you think it wise to just open a door without knocking?" Blaise scoffed as he poured himself another drink. "Merlin forbid you walk in on Draco and Granger."

Ginny grimaced. Blaise noticed, chuckled, and then sighed before summoning another glass.

"Sit and have a drink, Miss Weasley."

" _I beg your pardon?_ "

"What confused you? The word 'sit' or 'drink?'"

"None of that confused me, you idiot," Ginny glared. "Last I checked, you wanted to kill me."

"And I'm sure you still want to slit my throat. Regardless, the invitation still stands."

"Why?"

"I'm halfway to hammered," Blaise admitted. "But more than that, you stopped me from killing my best friend last night. That deserves a recompense."

Blaise had filled the second glass while talking. From where he sat on one of the couches, Ginny eyed both him and the drink he was holding out to her warily. She was determined to deny them both, but eventually sighed, crossed the room, and took the glass before sitting down on the couch before him.

"For the record," she said after taking a tentative sip. "I would've stopped anyone from killing Malfoy. Aside from the fact that Hermione would lose it if anything happened to him, he saved my life a bit back."

Blaise chuckled as he tossed what was left of his drink back. "Well, would you look at that. We're all here palling around all because we're indebted to each other. Isn't that lovely?"

Ginny snorted. "More like horrific, if you ask me."

"Oh, come now. It can't be all bad to have a Deatheater in your back pocket. Were that not the case this," Blaise gestured to the room, "wouldn't be at your disposal."

"Please," she huffed as she finished off the rest of her drink. "This only happened because you're in Hermione's back pocket. Not mine."

"I beg to differ. You keep playing the Granger card, and we both know that you will, I'm yours. At least until the war is over. By then I'm sure I'll be fighting for my life from whatever justice system that remains who'll want to lock me up despite the treason I've committed to help you."

Ginny couldn't even refute what he said. When the Battle of Hogwarts had been over, one of the few things the Order did was to secure a set number of the Wizengamot who'd yet to be killed. They had been hidden away ever since so that a justice system would be the first thing in full force whenever the war ended. It was a surety then that Blaise would be tried. Draco too, now that Ginny thought about it.

"Hermione's not going to let you go to Azkaban," Ginny said eventually. She was speaking more for Draco, but she supposed Blaise too.

"She can try, but that doesn't mean it still won't happen," Blaise replied rather solemnly. He filled his glass for the third time and downed it before adding, "No matter though. I'll be long gone before then."

Ginny's brow arched. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. I'm planning to disappear before everything gets shot to hell. I'd encourage Draco to come along, but anyone with half a brain knows he wouldn't leave Granger."

"True," Ginny nodded. "Love is the biggest trap known to man."

"Hmm," Blaise mused as he rose from his seat. He walked over and refilled her glass. "Love is one hell of a trap indeed. Merlin forbid I ever fall prey to it."

Ginny chuckled. "This is probably the first time I've ever agreed with you, Zabini."

"There's a first for everything," he commented and raised the bottle with what little left remained in it. "Cheers."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Two chapters in a month! I'm so proud of myself lol. As for the chapter, I think I love Fleur the more I write her. And, Ginny and Blaise have actually managed to be a in room together without any serious damage! In case you didn't notice before, I updating the pairings list on this story to officially include them :).

ALSO! I have to single out **Dindore** , because she is the reason why I plan on creating a short story on Theo and Fleur's relationship from the beginning chapters of this story. Her review got me thinking and the gosh darn plot bunnies started forming lol. Unlike how this story jumps right into Draco and Hermione's relationship, I'm going to take Theo and Fleur from the beginning. So, there ya have it. Obviously we all know it's a non-HEA, but at least there'll be some tender moments before then.

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Guest:** "Can't wait for more." Thanks! I hope that you liked the chapter. Plans are brewing! "Cold-blooded" ones at that!

 **Guest2:** "Zabini appears..." Yes, well, that was canon *shrug*. This is fanfiction where I'm taking those flaws and reworking them for the purposes of this (AU) fic. You can't expect the same character from canon in that case.


	26. Hunting Parties

When Blaise left for his meeting, Hermione and Draco had decided that they should have a meeting of their own. One by one, everyone trickled into their bedroom with food in their hands. It probably wasn't wise to have a full stomach when discussing potentially gruesome details, but Draco had hoped with Ron's face stuffed he'd hear him less. Despite the hideous glare Hermione had shot his way, it was still worth saying.

"'Ow are you feeling 'Ermione?" Fleur asked as she sat down on the floor.

"Better, thank you," Hermione smiled. "Just aches and pains now like you said."

"When you're better then we should probably leave," Harry said. "As… _thankful,_ " he said none too gratefully, "as I am for a place to stay, this shouldn't be it."

"We have no other options right now, Harry," Hermione frowned. "But I do agree with you that we shouldn't stay here for very long. In any one place, for that matter. And Draco and I have a plan for that."

"Oh, like your plan of leading Zabini to us?" Ron scoffed.

"Leave her alone, Weasley," Draco snapped. "And Blaise for that matter. He did what he had to do. Was it crazy? Sure. Batshit crazy even. But you do what you have to in war."

"Which brings us to why we asked you all to our room," Hermione jumped in. She stared at them all as they each became wide-eyed and alert. She could almost hear the cries of protest as she took a deep breath and began. "You-Know-Who's winning. Why? It's because he stopped with all the grandiose planning. He weakened us by targeting us separately, and it was a great plan. We need to do the same thing to his followers."

No one said a word. Hermione looked around at everyone and tried to analyze their faces. Harry's had paled. Ron looked shocked. Neville seemed to be in deep thought as well Ginny. Fleur, which by no means was unexpected, was nodding vigorously in approval.

"Hermione, that's madness," Harry said after a terribly long moment of silence. "To go directly after them would be-"

"Smart," Neville chimed in to the surprise of just about everyone. "Dangerous as hell, but smart. It's what I was doing in Germany. It wasn't directly going after a Deatheater or a Snatcher per se, but we still set up traps, lures, and whatever else we could think of."

"So, that means you're in then, Longbottom?" Draco questioned. Neville swallowed before he nodded.

"Neville, this is _suicide_ ," Harry tried to reason, but a loud scoff came from Fleur as she crossed her arms.

"So is waiting for our deaths in my opinion," she argued. "They're going to come to us anyway, one way or another. We might as well get to them before they get to us. Let them play by _our_ rules."

Draco smiled. "I now see why Theo was taken with you. Alright, that's two down." He urged with his head for the remaining three to speak. "What about you?"

"How would we even do it?" Ginny asked after a slight pause. "Targeting Deatheaters isn't easy. If it was I'm sure we would've done it by now."

"I highly doubt that," Draco snorted before continuing. "However, to answer your question, I can help you. I know these people. Their addresses, their habits, you name it. We can pick them off gradually, albeit at a steady pace. It could be up to a week before the Dark Lord realizes what we're doing. And then-"

"He'll come for us harder than he has been before," Ron finished.

"Okay, so you're willing to sit and wait for death," Draco shrugged. "Fine. Potter? Weaslette?"

"That's not what Ron is saying, Malfoy," Harry sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's put it this way. Who would be going after? Name them."

Draco raised his hand and began counting off his fingers. "Montague, Rabastan, Rodolphus, Avery,-"

"All well-trained and experienced killers," Harry said curtly. " _That's_ who you're naming. It's one thing to be prepared for danger and another thing to go after it."

"You're right," Hermione said with a small nod. She didn't miss Draco's expression of betrayal, but she wasn't finished. "There is a difference. But you're the last person who should be warning people about going after danger."

Harry was affronted. Everyone in the room knew good and well Hermione was talking about Sirius, and the accusation was staggering. Harry seemed to be at a cross of being sad and angry. However, instead of expressing either one, he spoke in a calm tone,

"I am. Did it ever occur to you that I've learned from my mistake which is why I _don't_ want to do this?"

"It has," Hermione told him. "However, as Draco has recently said, you do what you have to during war. This, Harry, is not a choice."

"Yes, it is," Harry answered firmly. "And I'm choosing no."

Harry didn't wait for any rebuttal. He had gotten up from his spot on the floor, wrenched the door open, and left the room. Ron followed soon after. Neville was next, promising to try to talk to them. When the door closed Hermione cleared her throat.

"You haven't said what you're going to do yet, Ginny."

Ginny looked at her. She awkwardly rubbed her arm up and down, but soon her head was moving in those directions also.

"We're dead either way," she said with a sigh. "At least if we go on the offensive and we die...we would've died doing something."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Okay. We still have to plan this well. The when, the how, who goes after who. I hate to admit that Harry was right, but these are experienced killers we're dealing with. We should go in pairs for the upper level Deatheaters at the very least."

"Agreed," Draco nodded. "After the Dark Lord's meeting we can talk to Blaise. We need to know what they're planning on their end first."

* * *

Blaise was slightly more drunk than he had intended on being before this meeting. Quite impressively, Ginny Weasley could drink. So now he was sitting slumped in his chair, eyes closed, elbow on the armrest, and his thumb digging deeply into his temple to relieve a brewing headache.

"Worried about your boyfriend, are you?" Montague sneered from across the table.

"Sod off you _prick-less_ arse."

With his eyes still closed Blaise had missed any mortified expression Montague had made. No matter. Imagining it was still pretty damn funny.

Blaise sat as he did until he heard a door open and close. He looked alive then and sat properly as Voldemort reached the table. It was only then that Blaise took account of who was here and still alive. Bellatrix, of course. So he heard through the grapevine, she had been the one to kill McGonagall. Theo's father was still kicking. Dolohov was damaged by burns on the face, but yes, still living. Much to Blaise's displeasure, both Lestrange brothers were going strong. Rabastan had a couple burns and he seemed to be wincing. A broken rib perhaps… At least that would make Draco smile.

"With the exception of a select few," Voldemort began, "you are all _useless._ The resistance and the Potter boy could have fallen under my hand last night, but did they? _No._ Even weakened your were still failures to them."

"With all due respect, my lord," Pucey said tentatively. "They were all together. We've been doing well when they were separa-" Pucey's sentence was cut short by a green light from Voldemort's wand.

"Does anyone else want to provide an excuse?" Voldemort asked calmly. No one spoke. It was even quiet enough to hear a feather fall to the floor. "Well then, I now have one task for all of you. _Hunt them down and kill them._ I don't care what it takes. Zabini," he addressed.

Blaise sat straighter. "Yes, my lord."

"You and Bellatrix will lead the hunt," Voldemort ordered. "Out of anyone, the both of you have disappointed me the least."

Blaise's insides were in an uproar, but his façade showed nothing but pride as he gave a curt nod to the crazed witch who was ready to shed blood. And yes, blood would be shed, but Blaise wondered whose it would be: the Order, Bellatrix's, or his? If he had to answer honestly, self-preservation aside, the resistance was dead.

* * *

"Do you think that I was too hard on Harry?" Hermione asked Fleur. The blonde witch was taking up her Healer duties and checking to see how Hermione's body was healing.

"'Arry needed a reality check," Fleur answered firmly. "War is never about what you _want_ to do."

Hermione nodded. She noted how she winced very little as Fleur prodded her ribs and smiled. She frowned shortly after, however and said with disappointment, "He's not going to do it."

"Then 'e can go back to 'is hideout. Aberforth is still 'is Secret Keeper."

"No, he can't," Hermione said hesitantly, instantly regretting how Fleur took note of it. "Fleur, what I'm about to tell you can't be said to anyone. Do you promise?"

Fleur paused for a moment before giving a subtle nod.

"Blaise didn't find our base by tracking McGonagall's Floo. I… I told him about how our pantries worked and urged him to use that as a way of entry. That said, Harry's hideout isn't safe. None of them are anymore."

"'Ermione!" Fleur gasped. "That's… That's…"

"Crazy," Hermione finished. "It was crazy and reckless and the only option that I could think of to save Blaise's life and also get us out of clear. It just didn't work out the way that I had hoped. Are you mad at me?"

"...I would like to be," Fleur began, "but I can't. Differences between what you want and need to do right?"

The brunette smiled grimly. "Right."

"Besides, with those circumstances it looks like 'Arry's with us after all, yes?" Fleur grinned. "'E either fights or 'e dies. Like you said earlier, this offensive measure isn't a choice. The sooner 'e realizes that the better."

Hermione marveled at Fleur's ruthlessness. She marveled because it was something that she could identify with. A witch scorned. A witch in pain. A witch wishing to cause as much destruction to the people who turned her world on its side. In that latter regard, Fleur had far more motivation to take on this endeavor. Draco was still alive. Theo was dead. Fleur wanted closure, and this was how she was going to get it.

" _Draco! Granger!"_

Hermione and Fleur shared fearful expressions as they heard Blaise's voice echo off the walls.

"Help me," Hermione said as she struggled to get off the bed. Fleur quickly moved to support half of her weight as they left the bedroom. Draco had already been in the hall, banished by Fleur because he kept making crass remarks and distracting her from her work. He took over in aiding Hermione and the three of them joined the others who had already made it to the study where Blaise was pacing.

"What's wrong?" Draco immediately questioned once he and Hermione had made it to the room. Blaise have an insane laugh as he shook his head.

"We've got problems. _Major_ problems. The Dark Lord is cutting back on targeting you all individually."

"And that's a problem?" Ron asked with a raise his brows. "That's the best news I've heard in a lifetime."

"Yeah, well, it's not," Blaise countered. "The opposite of an individual search is an outright hunting party. And the Dark Lord put me and _Bellatrix_ at the forefront of it all."

And that's when Ron's face fell. Everyone's really. Blaise locked eyes with Draco who would understand what this meant the most.

"Then we can't wait," Draco announced. "We need to go on the offensive before the Deatheaters mobilize themselves. Just like we're harder to kill in a group, so are they."

"So, it's happening then?" Blaise questioned to confirm. "You're going to target them?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. She gave a side glance at Harry before sighing and amending, "Most of us, anyway."

"Right," Blaise nodded. "Figures only some of you would be ballsy enough to take something like this on."

Harry scoffed before addressing Hermione, "Figures that you would discuss a plan like this with _him_ before the rest of us."

"It doesn't matter," Ginny interjected before a fight broke out. "The point is that we're doing it. All of us except Harry and Ron."

Blaise couldn't mask his surprise for the life of him. He turned his eyes onto Neville and sized him up before commenting, " _You_ , Longbottom?"

"Yeah, got a problem with that?" Neville asked in a sneer. Blaise grinned.

"No, no problem. Just glad that I didn't put money on this. I guess that bit is settled then. I suggest you figure figure out who's killing who soon. I can't beat around the bush with Bellatrix and I'll need to put forward a serious effort in 'finding' you all."

"Well, you and I already have Montague in our sights," Draco said. "If we could take out any other Deatheaters relatively easy to kill, but pose a high threat, we'd be on the right track."

"Which Deatheater killed Seamus?" Neville asked. Blaise took it upon himself to answer.

"Avery,"

"I'll take him then."

"I will 'elp," Fleur added.

"I want Rabastan," Hermione announced. "But I'll have to wait until I'm completely better before I go after him."

"Wait until Montague's dead then and we'll do it together," Draco suggested as he smiled at her fondly. "He was our original project after all."

"I want Bellatrix," Ginny boldly declared, the gasps that followed after loud enough to wake the dead.

"What part of _easy to kill_ did you misunderstand?" Draco choked.

"She killed my mother, Malfoy. Besides, with Bellatrix gone this hunt will be less of a threat to us. She needs to be among the first to go."

"No," Ron said. He was shaking his head and staring at his sister as though she'd gone mad. "I can't let you go after her. _Anyone_ would be better than her. She'll kill you."

"Are you rethinking your position on the plan?" Ginny baited. "If you are then I need a partner."

"Fine, I'm in then."

Blaise's laugh rang through the room. All eyes were on him now as his laughter died down to a fit of unmanly giggles. "Forgive me, but as cute as a brother and sister team would make, to kill Bellatrix you need skill, and I have an _utter_ lack of faith in you in that regard."

Ron's ears tinged and he snarled at the man. "Well, she's sure as hell not going alone."

"I didn't say she was. Bellatrix is going to be constantly on the move with this hunt. If any sort of tag team attacks her and she somehow lives, she'll know someone close to her slipped you all information. Namely _me._ If this is going to be done, it needs to be done neatly and in one shot."

Blaise removed his gaze from Ron and settled it firmly on Ginny. He knew before he even said it that he would regret this. "I'm already working with Bellatrix. I'll help you kill her."

* * *

 **Author's note:** The hunt begins! The hunt begins! Hmm, I'm a bit too excited about that lol. Now, as much as I love everything in this chapter (of course Blaise/Ginny taking on Bellatrix? Yesssss) I liked the mini standoff with Hermione and Harry. I feel like it's always Ron to be the first to say, "No, not happening." I think it's a bit tougher and probably a lot more meaningful if Harry does it instead for once.

ALSO! Moments before updating this, I posted the first chapter of the spinoff story detailing Theo and Fleur's relationship (eek!). It's called Sacrifice, aptly named for chapter 6 of this story. I hope you guys check it out and **Dindore, you're welcome! LOL :).**

-WP


	27. Phase One

**Author's note #1:** Now, while not written in vivid detail, the end of this chapter still left me feeling squeamish *wriggles in seat*. Happy reading!

* * *

With everyone joining in on the plan, Harry reluctantly threw his hat in. He wasn't going to let his friends do this without him even if he was completely against it. While the group decided who he (and Ron) would target, Draco made his way to towards Blaise who was observing the motley crew.

"You're going to help Weasley's sister kill Bellatrix."

Blaise eyed Draco from his periphery and could already feel a sneer coming on. "Your leg looks better. It would be a shame if it was broken."

"Hostility," the blond mused with a nod. "Interesting."

"I'll break it, Draco. I mean it."

"Break my leg and Hermione will break your ribs."

Blaise turned to him with both brows raised and scoffed. "You're sicking a witch on me now?"

"If worse comes to worse, then yes," Draco admitted. "Just be careful, alright?"

"We'll be ready for Bellatrix; don't you worry."

"Oh, I didn't mean my auntie Bella. I meant Ginny," Draco chuckled. "If you're going to die by anyone's hand, it's hers."

Blaise rolled his eyes at that, settling on the witch in question who was talking to her brother, Neville and Hermione. The latter was pulled away, however, by the veela and the two of them wandered away from the rest of the group but still within eyesight.

"What is it?" Hermione asked Fleur. The blonde was anxiously wringing her hands, but eventually let out her worries in a deep sigh.

"You're going to 'ave to tell them what you told me," Fleur said. "What you said about the pantries."

" _What? Why?_ Fleur, no one has to know."

" _Yes_ , they do. Blaise is 'eading up the 'unt for us and all of the Deatheaters know 'ow to find us now. We may be safe 'ere in his 'ouse, but what about those 'oo are still alive? We 'ave to send a warning to everyone."

Hermione felt a wave of panic overtake her. Again, crazy and reckless had defined her decision to tell Blaise about the pantries, but now she was adding suicidal to the list. As she passed a glance at all of her friends, she wondered who else was still alive. When she had last broached this subject with Draco she hadn't been sure. For those who may be and, yes, using what safe houses were still available, she had indeed signed their death warrant while trying to save someone else.

"You guys alright?" Neville asked. He and Ginny were walking over and Hermione felt a huge lump in her throat. She locked eyes with Ginny because she was one of the few people who had known the truth.

"We have to tell them, Gin. We have to tell them about how Blaise found us and warn the Order."

Neville stood by, asking what she meant and wondering if Blaise hadn't found them through McGonagall's Floo, how else? Hermione could hear the blatant accusation in his voice, but she wasn't focusing on that. She was keeping her eyes on Ginny who, slowly at first, came aboard the same train of thought she had once discussed with the annoying Italian.

" _What_ is going on?" Neville demanded. His voice carried this time and attracted the attention of everyone else.

Hermione felt very much caged and ganged up on despite having Fleur on her left and now Ginny on her right. Harry and Ron were at Neville's side now and Draco and Blaise, sensing trouble, had rolled up to the right.

"What's the fight about kids?" Blaise questioned, and Neville rounded on him immediately.

"How did you find us? If you didn't track us through McGonagall's Floo, then how did you find us?"

Blaise ignored the question (as well as Harry and Ron's suspicious glares) and quirked a brow at the three women.

"The safe houses, remember?" Ginny said.

Yes, Blaise did remember that little tidbit and made a quick analysis of which Gryffindor would attack who once the news dropped.

"Granger told me about how the house elves feed you. I used the pantry system to find you, which means that I can use that method to find all of your bases."

"Which means they're all compromised now…" Neville deduced. "Hermione," he frowned bitterly, "how could you do that? Do you realize what kind of position that you put us in? Why would you do it in the first place?"

"I did it because I thought that it would work out for everyone," Hermione sighed miserably. "We'd be somewhere safe and Blaise wouldn't have to die."

The loudest snort came from Ron who was shaking his head in disbelief. "No. You didn't do it for us so don't even say so. You did it to save _him._ You care more about Deatheaters than you do to your own friends."

"Watch yourself, Weasley," Draco warned. "You know as well as I do that she cares about the lot of you."

"Not like you two," Ron scoffed at him before turning back to Hermione. "We're nothing but afterthoughts to you. Let's save the boyfriend, save the boyfriend's friend, and if this deathtrap of a plan works out, my friends not dying is a bonus."

"Ron!" Ginny scolded. Even Harry was shooting him a glare, but despite it all, Hermione knew that there was an element of truth in his words and it hurt.

Hermione took a deep breath and shook off her nerves before speaking. Even then her voice still quaked in a way that she hated. "I did a reckless thing, and you all hate me. Fine. It doesn't take away from the fact that we need to send patronuses out and tell whoever we think is still alive to stay away from the safe houses."

"And while they're fending for themselves, then what?" Harry asked icily.

"Continue with the plan. The sooner the Deatheaters are dead, the safer everyone will be. Excuse me."

Hermione broke away from the group and left the room. Draco didn't miss a beat and he followed her to their bedroom where she stood in the middle, hands balled into fists, and taking long, deep breaths.

"I'm so _stupid!_ " Hermione suddenly yelled at no one in particular. Draco thought she didn't know that he was there until the door behind him slammed shut from her spell. "We could've stayed," she told him. "You were my Secret Keeper. We could've stayed in my cottage, hidden from the world, but no. I had to come up with the _brillant_ idea to kill Rabastan. All of the horrible things that's happened could've been avoided."

"All but your sanity," Draco said pointedly. "You wanted to kill Rabastan because you didn't want him to off your friends while trying to find you. It was either this or a manhunt. As I see it, everyone was dead anyway."

Hermione grumbled horribly before moving to sit on the bed. "You have an interesting way of trying to make me feel better."

"War's a bitch," he shrugged. "There is no feeling better; just what is and what it has to be. When the war ends they'll forgive you."

Hermione groaned and fell back onto the bed. "How can you be a cynic and then end it with such a sappy thing as that?"

"Hell if I know," Draco chuckled, "but I'd be very appreciative if you never brought it up again."

He sighed and lay down next to her, pulling her close, and Hermione let him despite the residual pain and unwanted Montague flashbacks. All she wanted right now was comfort and some sort of surety that she hadn't doomed everyone to die.

* * *

"Is this a _dungeon?_ " Ginny boldly described a dank, dark space that severely took away from the beauty of the rest of Blaise's house. After Hermione and Draco had left, the majority of the Order took to sending Patronuses with coded messages to what was left of their group to warn them about the safe houses. Ginny was the only person not to partake for Blaise had promptly recruited her for "Bellatrix training" and led her down to the basement.

"My mother has never cared for dungeons," Blaise answered nonchalantly as he closed a large, heavy metal door. "They were distasteful in her opinion. This is actually a muggle fallout shelter with reinforced doors and walls that make it perfect to contain whatever lethal spell or curse I plan to throw at you."

Ginny, who had been examining said reinforced wall, abruptly turned around. " _Sorry?_ "

"What?"

"You said _lethal_."

"I know. Did you think we'd be throwing around Year One spells in here? Just go stand in the middle for Merlin's sake."

Ginny could feel what little patience she had dwindle to nothingness as she spewed unladylike profanities and went to stand in the middle of the massive basement that echoed under her feet. On her way there she promptly fell forward, screaming for dear life as she felt her entire body catch fire. She even tried to see if she had, but there was nothing. No flames, no smoke, just the agony of someone casting an _Incendio_ on her. It felt like an eternity before whatever she had been hit with had lifted and she rolled onto her back, murder in her eyes when she found Blaise staring down at her.

"In pain?"

Ginny growled mercily, but yes, she was in pain. "When I...get off this floor...I'm-"

"Getting hit with that curse again," Blaise finished. He raised his wand and aimed it, his head slightly tilted. "Or I could do it now. Bellatrix would. She also wouldn't warn you beforehand and neither will I. I suggest you move."

Ginny's eyes widened as she saw the tip of Blaise's end glow, and despite the protestation of her limbs she did move out of the way and rolled onto her hands and feet. That didn't stop him from redirecting his wand before finishing the curse and it got Ginny right in the ribs. She fell flat, trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her whimper, but it was difficult.

When the spell lifted Blaise was walking towards her and tutting. "If I were Bellatrix you'd be dead already."

Ginny grit her teeth to the point of breaking them and pulled out her wand. "Immobulus!"

Blaise froze where he stood and Ginny slowly got to her feet. He was at least a head and a half taller than her but she still managed to see his eyes.

"You know, with you frozen like this one good _Bombarda_ would shatter you to a hundred pieces. I should do it considering we're practicing lethal methods and all."

Ginny smiled at her words, but then she gasped when her spell waned and Blaise's arms wrapped around her and he pulled her close.

"Not a very wise spell to use," he tutted again. "Leaves thinking in tact and someone versed in nonverbal spells can easily break it."

"For Merlin's sake!" Ginny grumbled. "Can you let me go?!"

"The magic word?" Blaise grinned as he stared down at her.

" _You get to live?_ "

"That's four words and also incorrect."

Ginny was growling at this point and she turned to basic instincts and stomped on Blaise's foot. Yes, he let her go. And since he seemed to like fire so much, she let rip her own _Incendio_ that fanned out in three different directions. Blaise had to dodge them all and as he did she shot other various spells at him.

Blaise was tuckered out, she could tell, and she saved him the trouble of getting up from the floor with a set of well-placed cuffs that rose up and covered his wrists and ankles. Ginny smiled and tilted her head. He kind of looked a doomed frog from a muggle science class Hermione had once told her about.

"Well, I think that's enough training for today," Ginny sighed happily as she leaned over Blaise who was still trying to catch his breath. "Anything to say before I leave you to get out of this yourself? You know, since you're so skilled in nonverbal spells and all."

Blaise couldn't help it. He laughed. "Well done. You've earned yourself a drink later."

Ginny cocked a brow in the air. "I don't need you for that. I remember where your stash is."

"Not _all_ of that is up for grabs."

"You'd better get out of those cuffs before I drink the good stuff then," Ginny teased and then walked away humming with Blaise still cuffed to the floor.

* * *

Blaise did manage to get out of the cuffs, but there were pressing matters to tend to before he and Miss Weasley could figure out who could out drink who.

"I'm all up for moving quickly, but neither of you have a plan," Hermione said as she watched Draco slip on his shoes. Blaise was by the door waiting.

"Yes, we do. Go to Montague's house, do unspeakable things to him, kill him, and then leave," Draco smiled. "Besides, if Blaise is to help me it has to be tonight. By morning, he'll be with Bellatrix 'hunting' us."

"Precisely," Blaise agreed. "Top it all off, it'll be up to three days before anyone truly begins to miss him. By then we can get the ball rolling on killing everyone else."

Hermione sighed and nodded. "Fine. On the way the back stop by your house, if you don't mind? It would be a good idea to keep a couple spare wands handy."

"Fair enough. I'll grab a couple-"

"No!" Hermione half-shouted, startling both men and thoroughly embarrassing herself. She cleared her throat before saying, "Bring the box. You, um… You have quite a few wands that belonged to our friends. You might bring one of theirs by mistake and I don't think we need his house in an uproar again. I'll pick out the ones we can use."

Blaise gave a single nod before turning to Draco. "Ready?"

"Absolutely," he replied. He gave one last look at Hermione before asking a very important question. "Any requests?"

They had talked about this before, what Draco would do when he saw Montague again. Usually Hermione would stay quiet because he would be angry enough for the both of them. However, now given the floor to speak, she could only say one thing.

"Finish it."

Draco smiled and nodded. "My pleasure. Let's go, Blaise."

Draco led the way out of the bedroom before heading out of the house altogether. There was no apparating into or out of the house unless you were a Zabini, and so they both walked far enough until they were beyond the wards and disapparated to a house isolated by woods.

"Why do purebloods love this?" Blaise shook his head. "It's absurd."

"I've often thought the same," Draco agreed, "but it makes our job here much easier."

Draco was completely right in that regard. Isolated homes meant no neighbors. It meant that they could do as much damage as humanly possible without the chance of someone barging in and attempting to play the hero. It also meant that they could stroll up to the house without having to crouch behind shrubbery or cast a single Chameleon Charm to hide themselves.

"Middle of nowhere house, mistake number one. Mistake number two, an _unwarded_ middle of nowhere house. Bloody idiot."

Arrogance at its finest, so Draco thought, being sure that no one would come unannounced or attempt to attack him. But then again, no one would be stupid enough to attack a Deatheater unless the attacker was a Deatheater too.

Blaise unlocked the door and headed the front while Draco covered his back. There were in a fairly large foyer that most pureblood hints tended to have and there were three ways that they could go: down the hall to the left, the hall to the right, or the stairs beyond them. The sound of a door closing upstairs gave the proper indication that that was where they had to go, and so they headed that way.

One spell first made sure that there was no one else in the house. A second spell, a modification of _Homenem Revelio,_ narrowed down the search to which of the many rooms Montague would be in and Blaise looked back at Draco once before the bond have him a subtle nod.

Blaise opened the door without fanfare and it revealed Montague apparently getting ready for bed. With the corner of one of his blankets in his hand, he stopped mid-action and turned to Blaise with a furrowed brow.

"Zabini? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Unfinished business, Montague," Blaise said calmly. "You see, you tried to rape my best mate's girlfriend and that's utterly unacceptable."

"How do you know what I tried to do?" Montague questioned with narrowed eyes. "Only the mudblood and her lot would know that."

"True, unless I was there too," Blaise nonchalantly replied. "Your memory is just a little… _fuzzy_ on the matter. A well-placed memory charm took care of that."

" _Excuse me?_ " Montague sputtered. Blaise laughed and shook his head.

"Oh, don't look so surprised. Draco's my friend, traitor or not. His problems are my problems, I'm afraid, and just like before, I'm here to help."

Blaise said nothing more and stepped to the side to reveal the very blond whom they had been discussing.

"It's time to finished what we started, Montague," Draco hissed, and Montague's went wide one he saw him enter. He reached for his wand next to him on the night table, but both Draco and Blaise had separate spells that sent the man over the bed and careening into the wall. A magnificent feat considering that the bedroom was rather large and it was a great amount of space to cover.

Montague slid down the wall awkwardly onto his neck which could've easily broken it. Judging by his groaning, the man was still alive. The pair entered further into the room and stood over him.

"Paint the scene for me, Blaise," Draco said with the tightening of his wand. "How did he have Hermione?"

"Flint had her by the arms," Blaise answered with a scowl. Draco's cold eyes descended on Montague who gulped where he lay.

"Hmm… Something like this, I imagine."

Draco flicked his wand once and Montague was laid out flat on the ground, his arms up above his head.

Panicked, Montague began to stammer, "W-what are you doing?!"

"What else?" Draco asked, ignoring the man's questioning.

Blaise swallowed deeply, not wanting to remember the position he had found Hermione in, but he did for Draco's sake.

"Clothes half off. Montague was straddling her."

Draco had already been seeing red, but now he was seeing black. He bared his teeth like a predator, his pupils nearly non-existent.

" _Consider it done."_

Once Montague realized what Draco was about to do, he was crying for murder. "No, no! Please, don't! Anything, _anything_ but that!"

"Begging won't do you much good," Draco snarled. His wand had frozen Montauge's legs still and stripped away his lower half bare. "You sealed your fate the moment you even _breathed_ in my witch's direction." Draco was kneeling on his shins now, and his wand aimed and ready. "I would say 'nothing personal,' but alas, _it is._ "

 _Diffindo_ left Draco's lips and Montague's screams would have woken the neighbors if he had any. While Blaise detested the sight of blood, this was perhaps the one time he would make an exception.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, I think the message is pretty clear: Don't mess with Draco's witch. One Deatheater down, others to go. Hopefully it won't be too long of a wait for the next chapter, but alas, such is life and priorities :)

Replies to Guests

 **kodyjean12:** Thank you so much! Sorry for the long wait for this one, but I hope that it was worth it! :)

 **Dindore:** Hahaha, you're welcome! I still have to update Sacrifice next!

 **Guest:** Nope, haven't abandoned the fic! Just a busy life :D


	28. Trophies

Hermione couldn't sleep. With the way this war was turning out she kept expecting to hear terrible news, and it caused nothing but tossing and turning in her bed. She decided then to pace. When pacing stopped working she silenced the bedroom and transfigured a chair into a sparring buddy. If she was going to be awake she had might as well practice her offensive magic. That was how Draco and Blaise found her when they came back after two in the morning. Poor Blaise nearly got a curse to the chest.

"One hit here was enough, thanks," Blaise grumbled.

"Sorry," Hermione mumbled sheepishly. "How'd it go?"

"It went well," Draco smiled. "One Deatheater down, more to go."

"Good. If we can take out another one within the next two days that would be great."

"Avery would be a good shot if he gets offed tomorrow night," Blaise offered. "He's out of the country after that and won't be missed."

Hermione nodded and made a reminder to herself to tell Neville and Fleur about Avery at breakfast. It was then that she realized Blaise was holding something and she gulped.

"I see you've got the wands."

Blaise looked down at his hands. He was carrying his small box full of wands and vividly remembered how unsettled she'd been around it. With a gentle sigh he placed it on the nearby bureau.

"Take however many you think you'll need," Blaise told her before mumbling something about being hungry and heading to the kitchen. Draco wasn't oblivious to his best friend's behavior, and so with one glance at Hermione he followed him after she gave a nod.

Hermione was alone now with the box and her heart was heavy. Inside represented death, and she had no desire to look inside, combing through magical remains, but she didn't have a choice. And so, she shook off her nerves and opened the box, her eyes yet again instantly recognizing wands who had once belonged to people she loved.

She spotted Charlie's first before seeing Luna's and Dean's. These were only three in a sea of other wands and it made her just as sick as the last time. Hermione decided to sift through them as quickly as she could before closing the box and letting out a sigh of relief once finished. Draco came back moments later, his face pensive and a crease in his brow. Hermione had no doubts that he and Blaise had talked about why this box was a wooden nightmare.

"Where's Blaise?"

"Gone to bed," Draco replied. "He has to meet up with my aunt in a few hours, and Merlin knows he'll need whatever rest he can get." Draco had walked up to her, and now his hands were outstretched. "I can take that back to him-"

"I'll do it," Hermione interrupted. Her hands had pulled the box close to her body, protecting it almost, and held it tightly. "Blaise is in his bedroom, you said?"

Hermione didn't wait for Draco's reply and headed straight out of the room. Despite how big the home, her and Draco's bedroom wasn't far from Blaise's, and she had a feeling that it had been done on purpose. Some three doors down Hermione paused, and it took a moment for her to get her bearings and knock. She had expected a gruff, "Who is it?," but instead there was a shuffling of feet on the other side and soon Blaise's face in the doorway.

There should have been a preamble. A sigh even. In lieu of either of those things, Hermione began with, "Why do you do this? Collect them?"

For a moment Blaise was lost. It wasn't until he saw the box of wands in her hands, that his face lost a little color. He opened his door wider and gestured for Hermione to come inside.

"Why do you want to know, Granger?" Blaise asked once the door had been closed and the room properly silenced. "It's not going to make you feel better or change the fact that there are dozens of wands-"

"Please, I don't need you to say how many," Hermione flinched, vomit already forming at the base of her throat. "It's just… People who collect things from their victims are...are…"

"Are _what?_ " Blaise goaded.

Hermione wanted to recoil at his tone of voice, but instead she frowned. There were so many adjectives that came to mind. "Deranged" was one. "Sick" was another. With everything that Blaise had done for her, using either of those words seemed wrong. It was the _action_ of collecting wands from murder victims to be sick and deranged, but what to say of the man who did those things?

In the end, Hermione gave up and settled for something less accusatory. "They're not good people."

"That one's on you then, Granger," Blaise huffed. "I never said that I was a good person. Just like how I'll never say that you're a bad person."

"A bad person?" Hermione stuttered. "What have _I_ done that would bring me even _close_ to-?"

"Does plotting a series of deaths come to mind?" Blaise smugly answered. Hermione was instantly offended and stomped her foot like a child.

"Deatheaters are evil, worthless murderers and they deserve everything that they get," Hermione sneered, and Blaise smirked.

"Tell me how you really feel," Blaise teased. "Listen, let's not make this any more complicated than it already is, shall we? You are happily planning a mass murder for the greater good, while I like symbols of the hard work it takes to track down a person in hiding. Regardless of that, in the end, I'm still the creepy bloke who keeps trophies of his murders, and you're the vindictive witch who relishes the idea of someone's body turning cold and lifeless. So tell me, what's the difference between you and me?"

Hermione's mouth had fallen. She tried several times to redeem herself. To say _something_ to put her into a different category than the murderous bastard who was in front of her, but...she couldn't.

Blaise smiled and placed a finger under her chin to close her mouth. "I'll help you out, love. _There is none._ So, are we finished? Can I go to bed now?"

"Yes, we're finished." Hermione pushed the box into Blaise's chest and he caught it before it fell. She left the room shortly after and felt an uncomfortable weight in her chest.

* * *

"Alright, while Blaise is with Bellatrix searching all of your safe houses, we have some training to do," Draco announced to the group. He caught Hermione's eye briefly and refrained from rolling his own. She had jokingly called him "Professor Malfoy" when he had outlined what he wanted to do while Blaise was gone. Now every time Draco looked at her she had this annoyingly cute expression on her face that made him blush uncontrollably.

"What's with the red face?" Ron asked aloud, but Draco ignored him completely with a hard cough before continuing with his speech.

"To go through with our plan, all of you need to be properly prepared. That includes magical training and any helpful information I can give you about your respective targets. Longbottom, Fleur," Draco addressed with gesture for them to come forward. "Since you'll be going after Avery later on tonight, I'll be working the two of you the hardest."

"Great," Neville grumbled. "Never once a teacher's pet, but I am _now?_ "

Hermione laughed from where she stood and gave him a gentle pat as he walked by. "I'm sure that it won't be as bad as you think."

"That so?" Draco's lips devilishly curled up while Hermione's brow did a little raising of its own. "I suppose you won't mind being my sparring partner for my demonstration then?"

Hermione haughtily raised her chin and walked forward with her spare wand dangling between her fingers. While she wasn't afraid of her boyfriend, it was always a dangerous sign when he was so full of himself. She wondered what tricks he had up his sleeve while the words "constant vigilance" rang through her head.

"Let's do a bit of roleplay," Draco suggested. "You can either be Avery or you can be yourself. Your choice."

"I'd rather be myself," Hermione said. "Besides, you're the one who knows Avery best."

"A logical decision, but still the wrong choice," Draco smiled. His wand was drawn faster than Hermione could have anticipated, and soon she was holding a hand over her left shoulder. Blood was seeping out of it.

"What the hell, Malfoy?!" Harry shouted, but Draco paid him no mind as he addressed Fleur and Neville.

"Avery uses the simplest spells, but he's fast. Hermione's shoulder could very well be another limb or a vital organ with a much deeper gash. The best form of defense against him would be a defensive-sneak attack measure. Whoever's fast enough to keep up with me should be able to keep up with Avery and defend.

'Pick who goes first," Draco ordered them. He then brought his attention back to Hermione and frowned shortly after. Harry had conjured a cloth and wrapped under and over Hermione's arm to combat against the bleeding. "Can you move your arm?"

"Yes," Hermione replied as she gently swung it back and forth. Her words were confirmatory, but the grimace that accompanied it said otherwise. Regardless, she let a soft smile come to her lips before shoving a finger in his chest. "You owe me."

"Beat me in a fight," Draco teased and turned from her to find Fleur ready to go against him. It was as he readied himself in a dueler's stance that he analyzed the witch.

Fleur was pretty. Veela blood could do that to you, but Draco figured that even if that wasn't the case she would be pretty just the same. Anyone who looked on her would think her to be dainty and concerned with frivolous things just as the hoity-toity women of the pureblood social elite. Perhaps she once had been. However, the tight way she held her lips together, the lack of color to her fingers, evidence of the grip she had on her wand, and how _ready_ she seemed to fight him told Draco one thing: War had changed her. Theo's death had likely been the push she needed to wave a middle finger to the world.

"You've got two options," Draco told her. "Be as good as me, or be better than me." He glanced at the others who seemed to be in anxious anticipation for what was about to happen. "Count us off."

Draco resumed his stance, hearing to the right of him someone, Ginny it appeared, giving the countdown from three. Draco shared Avery's love of the offensive. It put you in control of a fight's outcome, and it played well to their need of meticulously planning everything. In the three seconds that it took for the fight to begin, Draco had decided how he would attack. He would first need something that could penetrate a shield, and while most spells, curses, or hexes that could do that were wildly dangerous, this wasn't a session for the weak. If he didn't take it easy on his own girlfriend, he damn sure wasn't going to do so for anyone else. His follow-up needed to be something that would get her off her feet, and if properly distracted (and in pain) from his first casting, any spells along the lines of Despulso would do the trick. The final spell needed to cripple her, and considering that Fleur still needed to be alive and functional at the end of this, a simple binding would do.

When the final countdown number had left Ginny's lips, Draco had settled on a curse that that would give Fleur seizure-like twitches. He would aim for her arm which would only give her a mild effect unlike if it struck her in the chest. And while yes, she did put up a shield like he thought she would, Draco's curse didn't break it. On the contrary, it collided with the shield and fizzled on contact. Draco fired two curses one after the other, one to Fleur's right and the other to her left. She managed to dodge one, but not the other, and although her left arm was now limp, she still had enough sense to copy Draco's methods, this time aiming at his head and another spell at his feet. Draco darted to one side, clear in the direction of a third spell he had somehow missed, and it hit him in the shoulder. He immediately stopped moving.

Draco knew this curse. It was warm and tingly, and the feeling moved down his wand arm. Instead of growing limp, his arm seized up, curling into his chest, and his wand fell from him. Had the curse hit him anywhere in his torso, it would have spread to every limb and left him like a human pretzel. He knew because he had seen the curse before.

There was applause in the room, but Draco ignored it, and so did Fleur. She looked neither proud nor smug at what she had done, but rather she was sad.

Draco wet his lips before hesitantly addressing the witch. "Theo taught you his curse."

The joy of her friends died down at that, and now they were paying rapt attention. Fleur sniffled once, but nodded. "'E did, yes. 'E said it could be 'elpful."

"Of course, he did," Draco happily, yet bitterly replied. "Did he teach you anything else?"

"A couple more curses, a few spells, and some dueling techniques. "

"Good. Take this curse off of me and you can help me train the others."

* * *

It was easy to forget that Bellatrix was originally a Black. Aside from pureblood rhetoric and mudblood hatred, the Black family was known for their grandeur and love of fine things. This was evident in what the witch's home looked like.

The Lestrange household wasn't Malfoy Manor per se, but it was still larger than the average. The massive foyer was accentuated with a modest crystal chandelier and a floor that shined beautifully from scrupulous house elf care. Having been in this house before, Blaise knew that down the main corridor that faced him was lined with artwork from famous painters, some of them first editions. There were also cabinets filled with fine china. Rodolphus didn't give two shits about anything like that, and so the logical deduction was that Bellatrix had wanted them. Somewhere beneath the crazy was a woman who still cared about the mundane. Blaise supposed that there was no getting rid of childhood training and family traditions no matter how many murders you committed. He could attest to that.

"Chin up, boy. We're going on the hunt!" Bellatrix cheered as she appeared from the shadows of the hall ahead.

"Bellatrix," Blaise greeted with a soft tilt of his head. "You're looking as bloodthirsty as ever."

"Charming," Bellatrix giggled in an evil way that only she could produce. It bounced off the walls and penetrated Blaise's skin something awful, but he kept that feeling to himself. "We're going on a killing spree. Why shouldn't I feel tickled?"

Only she would use such a description for what they were about to do, but he felt less worried knowing that Hermione's lot had warned their people. It wouldn't last long, however, and Voldemort's impatience would wane yet again. When it did, Voldemort would come down on him just as before, and Blaise doubted that he would come out of his punishment alive a second time.

"Who's coming with us on this little expedition?" Blaise questioned. Bellatrix had told him that she would choose the proper people for the job. That had saved him a headache, but it had also left Blaise curious and he _hated_ being in the dark.

The answer to his question emerged from the hall just as the witch had. The Lestrange brothers. _Perfect_. It made sense that Bellatrix would pick them, not to mention that they probably wanted revenge and thought this an opportune moment to fall into their laps.

"Zabini," Rodolphus greeted. No, he didn't look as evil as his wife, but then again, he was more of a silent breed. You never knew of his skill until the time came for it. Much like Draco, if Blaise was honest.

"Lestrange and...Lestrange," Blaise added for the other brother. "Is there anyone else?" he asked Bellatrix. She's smiled broadly before taking out her wand and holding it loosely in her hand.

"Just us poppet," Bellatrix replied. "We should get moving."

Blaise nodded and walked over to the group. Although he had known it before, it was painfully obvious that he was the youngest of the foursome. He briefly wondered what the others thought of this matchup before all of their hands held in a clasp and they disapparated. Blaise took them back to the pantry they had gotten to McGonnagall's safe house with. Once they landed, Blaise took a quick count of how many cabinets there were and found roughly fifteen of them. Aside from McGonnagall's, one he knew had to be Hermione's. Another had to belong to that Finnegan bloke whom Blaise had heard through the grapevine was dead.

"Does it matter which one we use?" Blaise heard Rabastan ask. Blaise fought the look of annoyance at the man's sheer lack of common sense and politely replied,

"Not when we have to check them all." Blaise decided to go methodologically with this and simply went up to the next cabinet beside McGonnagall's. Without fanfare or even a warning to the others, he went inside and felt the cabinet do it's work and transport him. On the other side, he was equally likely to find an abandoned safe house or walk into a fight.

Turned out to be the latter.

At first Blaise thought that he was seeing a ghost. It could have been that he just didn't get a good look. Understandable, considering that not more than two seconds out of the safe house's pantry a wicked _Flippendo_ had hit him in the stomach. Had Blaise still been standing directly in front of the cabinet, he would've been thrown into it, effectively destroying it. Instead, he was careened onto the hard surface of a tiled countertop, his body twisting enough that the tip of his head hit the sink's faucet.

Blaise had got his bearings quickly and shook his head to correct his vision. His eyes told him that he was seeing Dumbledore, and he was right, but it just wasn't Albus.

Aberforth had either taken his time in moving his arse out of the safe house or, more than likely, he decided to stay and to battle it out with whoever had come looking. Leave it to a Dumbledore to not heed someone else's advice and to go about doing things his own way. Granted, his spellcasting and fighting ability was strong like his brother's as he went on the offensive yet again. Bellatrix had come through the cabinet next and, as with Blaise, had been attacked within mere seconds. She had been directly in front of the cabinet, however, but her husband had been right behind her and took most of the blow when she was pushed backwards. _Their_ combined bodyweight crashed into Rabastan, and the very thing Blaise had thought would happen to the pantry's cabinet, happened, and left splintered wood beneath them.

 _First Ginny Weasley, now Dumbledore's double. I'm going to die at the hand of a bloody Gryffindor,_ Blaise fretted in his mind. He didn't even get the chance to attempt to curse him, and instead he was holding up his best shield against the barrage of spells Aberforth was throwing. If this had been a one-on-one situation, Blaise would have had cause for worry. However, no matter how good you were, when you were outnumbered the better option was to flee and fight another day. Perhaps that was what Aberforth was going to do when his avalanche of magic had stopped coming. Not that Blaise would ever know.

Three wands had set three different curses on him and the screams had the potential to break glass. Blaise soon joined the fight with green light and the screams immediately stopped.

"What did you do that for?!" Rabastan growled. "We weren't done having fun yet!"

"This isn't supposed to be fun, you idiot," Blaise huffed. "The Dark Lord gave us a task to do and we're doing it. Torturing him would've been a waste of time."

"Perhaps," Rodolphus chimed in. He looked down at Aberforth's body and nudged it with his foot before bringing his gaze back to Blaise. "Or maybe you were just sparing the old man by killing him so quickly, hmm?"

" _Excuse me?_ " Blaise nearly sputtered. "Just what exactly are you implying?"

"I'm saying that he was prepared." Rodolphus threw a finger at the broken cabinet and continued on, "He was right on us the moment we got here."

"He's a resistance member. They're _always_ prepared," Blaise argued, but he could see that Rodolphus, nor his brother for that matter, were convinced. He glanced over at Bellatrix who was oddly quiet, but she was observing well enough, the tip of her wand gently tapping her cheek as the base of her wand rolled in her hand.

"They're not _that_ prepared."

"Humph, say what you want to say, Rodolphus," Blaise sneered. "You think that I'm a traitor like my friends?"

Rodolphus didn't confirm or deny. He merely stared at Blaise as though contemplating whether to bind him right at that moment. Blaise suddenly began weighing his options on how best to get out of a three against one situation if they all turned their wands on him. He nearly put up another _Protego_ when Bellatrix moved, but she didn't fire the first spell. She only put her hand on Rodolphus' shoulder, never once taking her eyes off of Blaise.

"Now, now, kiddies let's be good boys," Bellatrix smiled with one side of her mouth. "The blood traitor is dead as he ought to be. Besides, Young Zabini wouldn't do anything that would put a price on his head like my dear nephew. _Would you?_ "

The way Bellatrix's forefinger slid up and down the handle of her wand was unsettling to Blaise, but he did his best to ignore it. Instead, he adorned his sternest expression and gave half a lie.

"Last I checked I wasn't charmed by some witch and stupidly put my head on the chopping block for her."

"What about Malfoy?" Rabastan threw out. Blaise sucked his teeth and casually shrugged his shoulders, unable to resist a smirk in his direction.

"Draco's an alright bloke, but he's got one too many balls for me." Blaise turned to Bellatrix and raised a brow. "Are we done?"

Bellatrix didn't say anything. She gave him one look from head to foot before ordering everyone to search the house. Blaise let out a small sigh of relief once everyone was gone and paused in following after them as he passed Aberforth's body. The man's wand had rolled about a foot away. It was a beautiful dark piece of wood, anywhere between nine and eleven inches, with minimal carvings. Blaise bent over to pick up the wand, but his fingers stopped short of it. He stayed there, hunched over, his hand reaching for the wand, but retreating every time he touched it.

Blaise stood and ran his hands over his face, stifling the groan that he wanted to make. He left the room then, the wand still on the floor. He had enough trophies.

* * *

 **Author's note:** IT'S NOT ABANDONED LOL. Thank you to those of you still reading this :)


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